Mandalorian Knights
by Illuviar
Summary: A scientist working on improving hyperdrive technology and new power generation methods accidentally discovers a way to make a portal between dimensions discovering Earth Bet on the other end. What could have been a footnote in history becomes something more when the galaxy at large learns that an ancient version of humanitys long lost and forgotten homeworld has been discovered...
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Another plot bunny that won't let me go. This one came to me while jolting down ideas for the future of my Rogue Knight stories and reading the excellent Howl the Wolves on space battles forums by S0ngD0g13. It's is a crossover between Star Wars and the web novel Worm. The SW part takes place in a likely future of my Rogue Knight stories posted on this site among others, though it is not necessary to have read them - I'll be covering what you needs to know about the events that happened in story. **

**This chapter was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums, thank you very much!**

**AN2: If you enjoy my stories and have the means, please support me on my pat reon page - Delkatar's writing corner. I hope you'll enjoy Mandalorian Knights as well!**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

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**Mandalorian Knights**

**=MK=**

**Prologue**

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**Sundari City**

**Mandalore**

**Mandalorian Freehold capital world/Federated Galactic Empire member state/**

"Good morning, Galaxy!" A pretty blue haired human looking woman smiled at the camera. "I'm Amanda Lawson and this is GNN's In Tune! Today we're broadcasting live from Sundari City on Mandalore, where as you can see behind me, rebuilding efforts proceed apace one year after the end of the Clone Wars! We're on top the damaged Mandal Motors corporate HQ, one of the few buildings that emerged reasonably intact after the fighting on this world finally ended four years ago."

The camera drones zoomed in to show closely the ravaged city-scape behind and the beehive of activity taking place all over – ships, droids and workers in commercial exo-skeletons buzzed over almost every building in sight busy with rebuilding efforts. Yet, all of those paled in comparison to three dozen titanic figures striding with a purpose through wide streets long cleared of debris – the smallest of those behemoths was twenty meters tall with the tallest engineering Mobile Suit towering at thirty five meters.

"Current projections from the Freehold Reclamation Board suggest that preliminary work here in the restored capital would be done in time for the one year anniversary of the Victory Day. Many locals we interviewed during the previous few days claim that they are ready to work like demons to make Sundari safe for the coming celebrations. This year, Mandalore The Restorer and the Clan Council have proclaimed a week long celebrations over the victory in the war, a victory bought in no small part thanks to Mandalorian determination and sacrifices all over the galaxy. The purpose of this long celebrations is to honour not only everyone who sacrificed through the long conflict that not so long ago threatened us all but to allow the Imperial Family to celebrate at home before moving back to the Imperial Capitol of Coruscant for the Galaxy wide holiday on Victory Day. That's right, folks, Empress Satine Kenobi and Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi will be leading the celebrations here in Sundari in person, right along with Mandalore the Restorer himself, General Delkatar Veil and his wife, the war hero Bo-Katan Veil, the Empress own sister! But that's not all!"

Amanda beamed and walked away from the terrace overlooking the Mandalorian capital. The camera drones followed her graceful movements until she stood in front of a low glass table covered with snacks and beverages.

"Today's special treat is an interview with the Freehold's Financial Minister and CEO of Mandal Motors, Horus Yomaget and two of the leading scientists working for him. They have a stunning announcement to make! It's good to meet you again, Minister Yomaget!"

"Horus, please." The middle aged Mandalorian offered a pleasant smile. "Please take a seat, Amanda. I can call you Amanda, right?"

"Of course, Horus. Thank you for hosting us today." Amanda took a seat on one of the arm-chairs around the table and leaned forward. "You said you had something special to announce today. Shoot!"

"Well, we though about making it an official press-conference, however when we heard you're here with In Tune, we though GNN will be perfect for you. After all, you've been almost exclusively fair and honest in reporting throughout the war, not like some of your rivals in the news business."

"Oh, you make me blush Horus. We at GNN had always strived to bring the truth as we know it to the countless beings across the Galaxy." Amanda gushed.

"I'm pleased to announce that we here at Mandal Motors made an extraordinary discovery a few weeks ago. While our Research and Development department in conjunction with the Imperial Technological Bureau followed through on certain projects began under Chancellor Palpatine, our scientists managed to make a breakthrough – they created a stable breach into an alternative dimension near an inhabited world. I'm sure that the Empress and Mandalore the Restorer will be following on this announcement at noon local time, Amanda, along with many details."

"So, this is a heads up then, Horus?" Lawson asked eagerly.

"Indeed, Amanda. The reason for this is simple, we expect a large furore among a lot of our human citizens, both here in the Freehold and across the galaxy. You see, we've made a peaceful first contact with the locals, exchanged preliminary data and what we've discovered is extraordinary. The world we contacted, called by the locals Earth Bet, is at least in their dimension, Humanity's home world, complete with all the relevant scientific proof – archaeological, palaeontological, biological. Humanity, at least in Earth Bet's reality, evolved there. What's more, we weren't the first people from another dimension they've made a contact with. As we speak, they're in contact with an alternative version of their own world called Earth Aleph..."

"Wow, that's fascinating Hours! What else can you tell us? How was this discovery made? Who were the people who made first contact?! What can you tell our viewers about Earth Bet?"

"Well, Amanda, it all began two weeks ago after our scientists managed to establish a contained and controlled dimensional breach. First we did send a few probe droids and once we had some idea of local language, customs and politics, we dispatched a scouting party made of Mandal Motors security personnel – all experienced and level headed veterans from the war..."

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**Chapter 1 Part 1**

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_A flash of exotic particles heralded a breach forming in the wall between dimensions. Light shone briefly disgorging a two hundred meters long frigate painted black. Before the maelstrom of particles could dissipate, the starship briefly lit up its ion engines – a burst of power just long enough to set it on a vector leading to a more or less stable orbit around the Moon. At the same time the frigate's hangar bay silently slid open and a modified assault shuttle hovered out using repulsors and headed for the dark side of the Earth, which even in this day and age of heroes and monsters was still covered with spider-webs of glowing lights._

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**=MK=**

**21 December 2010**

**Earth Bet**

"Can someone explain to me why we're here in the first place?" asked Corporal Jake. He was one of the millions clones of Jango Fett who survived the Clone Wars. For a short while he had enjoyed his retirement and peace, a hefty retirement package too, thanks to the efforts of the General and Imperial Family. Yet, just like most of his brothers, he found peace not to his taste – when all was said and done, it was not only boring but he soon found out that he had only one trade that he was both good at and enjoyed. That was how he found himself enlisting as a private security contractor working for Mandal Motors on Mandalore.

"Corporal, I'm pretty sure you were on the same briefing with the rest of us." Sergeant Mathew Horst turned his helmed towards his offending subordinate with mild annoyance. The experienced NCO was formerly from the Mandalorian Military, which he left when the inevitable cut backs in the ground forces hit and currently served in the Mandalorian Knights, Mandal Motors security sub-division. Say what you will about Clan Yomaget and their current leader, however the CEO and serving Financial Minister was more or less honest or at least as much as someone in his position could afford to. He treated his people right too, which was more than could be said about certain parties that be better left unnamed. The last thing they needed on such a sensitive mission was an argument about some of the less… honourable Clan Leaders among their people.

"An expendable probe droid went out of contact so command is sending us to investigate. Is it just me or does this make no sense? Those things were built to be utterly expendable, right? Why are we going down there?" Jack didn't relent.

"All of you should have been briefed about those Parahumans running down there – some have incredible tech abilities. Who knows what they could get out of or do with one of our probes. First, droids are all well and good, but unless we're talking about one of the advanced models, they can't tell you everything." Needless to say, any and all advanced machinery stayed safe in high orbit away from that white bitch currently floating on the other side of the planet. "Second, command, in their _infinite wisdom,"_ Mathew began half mockingly, "believes that when time comes for a formal first contact, it should be for the best to do it quietly and low key. As far as those people know they're alone in the universe with the exception of alternatives of their own planet. No one wants to see what a first contact situation gone out of control looks like. Especially if it is true, and this really is a version of humanities home world from the distant past." He finished, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

"Long winded as always, eh, sarge?" The second Corporal in the shuttle, Ginna Quale, chuckled. She has served with Horst before – three months since her new contract with the Knights and before that, during the savage fighting in Sundari and later, during the last battle for the Planetary Shield Generator Complex, which was pure hell.

"We're Mandalorians, not common rabble. I don't need to use small words." Mathew almost sounded offended at the joke. "If we have to make contact with the locals, we should do our best to make sure it is peaceful. We do have most notable Earth languages loaded into our armours and data pads. Do not fire unless fired upon, this bears repeating. I mean you, Jake." Horst levelled a glare at the Clone through his helmet's visor.

"It was that one time!" The Corporal protested, raising his hands in a mock surrender.

"You shot a friendly Adept in the back." Gina chortled.

"Tried to anyway. Mandalore's Apprentice no less. Did you see what that woman did at Sundari before we were forced to abandon the city?" Horst shook his head. "You're lucky to be alive, kid. That's one of the reasons you're on this mission. You're damn lucky."

"Thanks, I think..."

"Be advised, we're entering the atmosphere. Stealth systems are nominal. We should be invisible to anything the locals have cooked up by themselves. However, if they have any of those tinker was it sensors, then we might be hosed the moment we hit atmo. Hold on and make sure all of you are strapped down tightly – I don't want complains about tin-cans bouncing around my cargo compartment." The pilot delivered her speech dryly.

A barely felt shudder was all that the soldiers felt when the assault shuttle entered Earth's atmosphere on repulsors going just slow enough for its stealth systems to keep it invisible for everything but the naked eye – something that would soon be fixed as well due to powerful stealth fields.

If anyone detected them on the way down, they made no obvious move to counter the insertion – no one scrambled fighters, no additional sensors lit up to either search or lock on them, that the pilots could detect anyway, no hails came their way. This meant one of two things – they either went undetected or the locals knew they were coming and were busy preparing a hot welcoming party for them.

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**=MK=**

**21 December 2010**

**Boat Graveyard**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Three horse sized spiky beasts raced through the bay's freezing mists. Late December in Brockton Bay was chilly on the best of days and while this year there wasn't much of rain or snow, so far anyway, the mists rolling from the ocean more than made for it. While the monsters vaguely resembling mutated dinosaurs who Blasto or someone of his ilk had the brilliant idea to cross with large mastiffs didn't appear to feel the chill in the night air, the same couldn't be said for the three people riding them. The two teenage girls and a large young man shuddered from the cold seeping into their bones. Only one of them had an outfit more or less appropriate for the time and place of night – it was the tall, broad shouldered boy who wore leather pants, jacket and a motorcycle helmet with a skull painted on its front. Incidentally, he was the one of who bitched the most about the cold.

"Tattletale," Grue growled. "What the hell are we doing out here in this weather?! Do you think we can find anything unless we run it over?!" He added after Brutus, the mutant dog he rode suddenly jumped over something it's rider couldn't see. Grue certainly didn't notice any obstruction even as they vaulted over it with him holding for dear life, which said a lot about the damn mist, didn't it?

"Pneumonia." The smallest of the three and worst clothed for a night out this late in the winter hissed through chattering teeth. She had a form fitting purple bodysuit, which in her opinion fit her like a glove, something she currently regretted. The fut coat she had helped herself to yesterday did little to keep her from freezing her bony ass among other things. "The boss wanted us to some fact finding. That drone Uber and Leet _accidented_ might mean we have a new tinker playing around. You know we can really use one on the team."

"Are we done? My dogs might catch cold." Rachel grumbled. She really didn't care much about their mission, which for once put her in complete agreement with the rest of the her new team. If she felt cold herself, she didn't show any trace of it besides her voice being more clipped and grumpy than usual.

"We aren't doing anything useful out here, Tattletale. Unless you can find something in the next minute we're going somewhere warm." Grue made a command decision. He was supposed to be the leader of the damn team after all, not that Bitch cared much about any of that. She really didn't care much at all about anything but her dogs and the team was a means to provide them with better care.

Tattletale on the other hand, Grue honestly couldn't make his mind about the blonde lithe thinker. She was cute enough he guessed and he was already half convinced she might be more trouble than she was worth. Her irritating need to be the smartest person in the room and make everyone painfully aware of it certainly didn't help matters though that at least was something he could work with or at least endure. Now, bringing the team out, the team he was supposed to be the leader of, the team he was supposed to be responsible responsible for, in the mist on a half-baked scheme to recruit a tinker, one who might very well not want to be found, that was something else. Their mysterious boss, the one who set up the team in the first place and used Lisa as a point of contact and a way to suggest missions, well that was something he hadn't been comfortable with since day one, though beggars can't be choosers he guessed. He needed what their boss promised after all. They all did.

Tattletale looked around with narrowed eyes and scrunched forehead. "You might be right. We probably should get back..."

"If we can find our way out of the mist." Grue pointed out dryly.

"I'm sure we'll manage..." Tattletale perked up just as the dogs ground to the halt and their ears pointed forward. At the same moment, a woman's scream carried through-out the mist covered boat graveyard echoes bouncing between the abandoned hulks.

"God damn it!" Grue hissed.

"Not our problem..." Rachel didn't sound entirely convinced. Her dogs leaned forward and growled at the direction they thought the scream came.

"This might be our tinker, just saying." Tattletale muttered.

It wasn't their problem. They weren't bloody heroes damn it, Grue told himself.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" Someone shouted from the fog. "Hank, get her!"

On the other hand, he could just imagine this being his little sister. Or one of his other team-mates… well, may be not Bitch. But the point still stands. God damn it! "Tattletale's right. This might be our tinker out to find her drone." They were villains, all right. They just had a reason to check what was up, right? Yet, Grue couldn't help but hear that nagging voice telling him that this wasn't their business. They didn't need the trouble or the heat if they ended up tangling with either the ABB or more likely the Merchants. Their team wasn't complete yet and they weren't experienced enough working together to risk it at this stage.

The three teenage villains stood on their dogs still arguing what to do when three weird sounds echoed from the vague direction the screams and shouts came from.

"That sounded like ray-guns or something." Tattletale grinned like a fox who just found the chicken coop wide open. "I bet that's our tinker – either the woman we heard, or they decided to help her. Let's go check it out!"

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**Part 2**

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**21 December 2010**

**Boat Graveyard**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

The squad of Mandalorian infantry landed and disembarked without incident. They fanned out around the shuttle after dispersing a spread of sensor drones, which created a secure perimeter around their way off planet. One fire team took defensive positions while the second one led by Sergeant Horst advanced towards the last known location of their scout droid – which was less than a kilometre to the east. Due to the wonders of modern technology and certainly at least a bit of luck, no one seemed the wiser about their presence, the heavy rolling fog covering the most of the town certainly helped. Without enhanced senses or special vision equipment the locals would prove to be practically blind in the wet mess outside, which was great in Mathews' view. He and his people on the other hand had no such issues – their helmets visors were meant to filter through all kinds of weather phenomena, many of them much nastier and more hazardous than mere fog. The darkness of night was no issue either – to their visors it was like a blue star shone pale light right above them.

There of course was another benefit to the sealed power armour – the environmental systems kept the cold and damp sealed outside.

Surprisingly enough, it turned out that they weren't alone out in the graveyard that late on a winter's night. One group of people and unknown animals moved in a rough parallel to their vector quickly overtaking them. Another four people were in front of them, between them and the last known location of their target. Interestingly enough, according to the sensor drones, the second group was actually two – one person in front who was likely running from the other three deeper in the graveyard in the general direction of the water.

"Look alive people, we might have stumbled into trouble." Horst sub-vocalized. "Weapons locked tight, lead element, stun settings." The Sergeant ordered and followed his own command, flicking a switch on his heavy blaster rifle.

"Do we wait for them to get away or do we get in and investigate?" Ginna inquired.

"I can see benefits either way..." Horst admitted. Their orders did specify to avoid detection if practical. On the other hand, for all they knew these people were out here in the cold for the same reason as the Mandalorians. "They might already have the package, or they're possibly searching for more like it. Any suggestions?"

The life sign running from the other three stumbled on something in the mist and felt with a subdued cry that mercenaries caught only thanks to the detection gear built into their helmets, tagging the leading figure as a female from the pitch of her voice. As the pursuers approached, the woman screamed again, this time much louder and her cry echoed throughout the graveyard. She got to her feet and stumbled away as fast as she could, which obviously wasn't going to be enough – the sensor feed didn't lie, her pursuers were gaining on her rapidly now.

Horst didn't really think. The cry, this scene, it brought back memories from the hellish retreat from Sundari with broken, exhausted and almost uniformly out of ammunition soldiers desperately trying to fend off droid raids on the last columns of fleeing civilians. Those last few days in the capital and the march to the closest friendly strong-point still featured prominently in his nightmares, it wasn't just because what he saw those damn machines do to his people. While many a Mandalorian rose to the occasion to protect their world, families, and honour, as Mandalore himself demanded, others chose to revel in the chaos to sate their base urges to loot, rave, and raise themselves up like petty dictators, carving out their own little kingdoms in the ruins of the capital… not to mention prey on those weaker than themselves.

"Move out. We're stopping this." Horst ordered coldly.

It was telling that no one raised a single voice of dissent. Say what you will about Yomaget but he and his people had chosen well when recruiting for the Knights.

"Control be advised, we've got a situation and going to intervene." While he ran, the Sergeant explained to the shuttle's co-pilot who was currently acting as an oversight.

"Affirmative. Strike Two is ready to assist and we'll keep the engines hot. I'll rely the situation to _Nemesis." _

The fire-team sprinted silently through the mist moving like ghosts through the night. They were almost upon their targets when the running woman stumbled again and fell with a cry, which she followed with a shriek as she realized that there was now no chance of escape.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" A man hollered. "Hank, get her!"

"Three hostiles, stun them. No one else in the immediate vicinity, just those other three on parallel track. They halted when they heard the screams. So far they've made no move to approach or get away. We've detected no outgoing transmissions from their location." Oversight, the co-pilot confirmed what the troopers HUDs already told them minus the part about that first group not calling for help, which was curious but something to ponder a bit later.

The fire-team burst around the rusted out hulk of a large water vessel, weapons at the ready. They saw a woman on her hands and knees desperately trying to crawl away from the large man towering above her. Both of them were dirty, though in the woman's case it could be explained with her flight and stumbling through the cold mud. The man had no such excuse – his jacket and pants were stained and tattered, his long beard was a thick and matted, with bits of food tangled within it. The bloodshot eyes and rotten teeth didn't help, especially given the fact he had them on full display as he leered at the woman, before he drew back a booted foot to kick her in the side. One of his friends was if anything in even worse shape, though the third one, who was farthest away was better dressed and much cleaner, though he still wouldn't pass muster on any civilized world in the galaxy. Three distinctive blaster discharges and three bright blue bolts slammed into the men instantly overloading their nervous systems and knocking them out.

"Ginna, you talk with the woman. We're going to freak her out enough as it is." Horst ordered in a cold, detached voice. "Jake, secure the rabble, the rest of us are on overwatch in case any of their friends show up."

"Will do, sir." Ginna confirmed, disengaged the stealth functions of her armour becoming more or less visible, which wasn't saying much in that heavy fog and approached the victim speaking softly.

"Friends like those other three?" Corporal Jake asked while removing flexible bindings from a compartment on his rig.

"Perhaps. They're coming our way, much slower and careful than they were moving before." Horst frowned at his HUD display. "Corporal secure the prisoners now. Ginna, how's the woman?" Horst demanded while his eyes were busy scanning the direction the trio and their animals approached from. From what he knew of this world, in this day and age, especially in cities it was far from common for people to ride any kind of animals. They might be just odd balls who decided to go for a ride out of the way or they might be some of these local Parahumans. In the later case, they might actually be dangerous.

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**Part 3**

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**21 December 2010**

**Boat Graveyard**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Tattletale, Grue decided, was both right and wrong. They did find a trace of their tinker, that much was clear – multiple people in what looked suspiciously like very slick and advanced power armour were a clue enough, thank you very much. They were all armed to the teeth too, with the biggest damn guns Grue had ever seen in person, which was very important because said guns were currently aimed right at the Undersiders.

"God damn it, Tattletale..." Grue whispered.

"Uh, hi?" Lisa slowly waved. "We surrender?"

Grue wasn't sure if she was telling or asking. What he knew was that she had a forced smile plastered on her face and was sitting stiffly on Angelica's back. At least Bitch's dogs simply stood and cautiously sniffed the air trying to decide what to make up of the strangers. Rachel, bless her soul, had the good sense not to order her monster dogs to attack, Grue wasn't sure they would make it halfway to the soldiers without being blasted into very fine red mist.

Did he mention that those were a lot of very big guns? He itched to release his darkness and run, with it and the mist he might just get away without being hit. On the other hand, those were really, really big guns. Even a graze might cripple either him or the dog he currently rode, which would not be good.

For the first time since deciding to become a small time super villain, Brian was having second thoughts about his career choice. Who'd have guessed that such big guns aimed at his head would do that?

"Identify yourselves." One of the armoured figures ordered in a clipped, no nonsense metallic voice – obviously the helmet masked his real one, which admittedly was neat.

"I'm Tattletale. They're Bitch and Grue. We're the Undersiders." Lisa answered without bothering to even glance at Brian. He knew he should be irritated at her undermining his brand new authority in such a manner but well, big guns. Duh. He decided that it might be for the best to let the thinker talk and hope that Tattletale would be able to help it this time and keep her mouth of running off ahead of her brain.

Incidentally, that was precisely what Lisa was trying very hard to do. She didn't need her power to know what her team-mates were thinking. Naturally, Rachel's first and only real concern was to keep her dogs from being blown away, something she was right to worry about. While Lisa had a hard time getting any clues about the group in front of her through their armour, it was telling that they had intervened to save the woman being chased by those three Merchants. It was also telling that the gangsters were alive, or at least the one that was close enough to make out through the fog. Her power implied that the others, likely two of them, were also still alive, as well though she couldn't be sure. Her power needed information to work with and the sleek advanced armour – definitely not made by a novice thinker, hid the micro expression of the soldiers wearing it denying her power almost anything to work with. At the same time the armour itself was a wealth of information and it was both exciting and concerning. What she could make of the suits through the fog looked identical, almost as if mass produced, though they had nothing in common with Dragon's designs. A new mass production tinker perhaps? Or judging by the small but telling amount of evidence in front of her eyes, an old one who had managed to fly under the radar until they could establish themselves properly. That, by itself was a scary thought. Lisa had seen tinker tech, a lot of it. Much of it, especially anything hastily built before a tinker could built the tools, to built the tools, and so forth until they had all they needed, like Armsmaster and Dragon, their design often looked rather crude and unrefined. That was a side effect of being clobbered together with anything that might do, not purposefully build from the ground, like the armour in front of her clearly was, or at least it appeared that way to her power.

Not these suits of power armour, or the various weapons – they all appeared too uniform, too refined. The soldiers wearing them simply radiated a sense of professionalism and danger, clearly not run of the mill mercenaries. They were like a select few of Coils mercs – the best and most dangerous of the lot.

"Haven't heard of you." The apparent leader of the soldiers deadpanned bringing Lisa's observations to a temporarily halt.

"We're new." She added politely and continued to keep her frozen smile in place. What was with her and people pointing guns at her head lately?! First Coil and his goons and now these people!

"Villains or independent contractors? You're no heroes, you didn't come to help the woman nor did you call for help." The man stated.

Lisa opened her mouth to protest and make a witty remark though she somehow managed to close it before anything came out. She knew better than to antagonize the people with the large guns pointed at her head, right? She was a smart girl after all. It helped that her power promptly supplied the insight that these soldiers were aware of the Undersiders before they approached and probably had them under observation for some time without any of them having any idea. Power, any help here? Perhaps they had more of those drones around keeping eye? This nasty fog probably was no obstacle for tinkertech sensors.

"Private contractors sounds about right." Tattletale said instead.

"So are we." The same man said again and the soldiers relaxed a fraction yet their weapons didn't even waver. "What brings you out in this weather?"

"We felt like a midnight walk..." Lisa blurted out without thinking making Grue twitch. She promptly shivered thanks to the cold and was her nose getting runny? Yep, it was, damn it!

"I bet. The real reason now, please." The man asked nicely.

It wasn't really a suggestion and again, Lisa didn't really need her power to figure that out. Why was power less than useful when she needed it the most darn it all?!

"We're probably out for the same reason you are." Grue cut in. "We were hired to track down the source of a tinker made drone that was recovered in this area not to long ago. I guess it's one of yours?"

"We want it back. Do you have it?"

"Not us. Last we heard, Uber and Leet managed to crash it by accident."

"I see. We might have to pay them a visit. What are we to do with you..."

Lisa wasn't looking forward to learning what such a visit might entail. You didn't send out this many power armoured soldiers to retrieve a worthless piece of tech. Whatever that drone was or whatever it had recorded had to be important and thus valuable. Lisa couldn't help it but wonder if there was any way to get her hands on it and make it worth her while. Only then did it dawn on her, thanks to her power forcefully giving her the answer, that the soldier implied they were going to track down those two clowns and go visit them at their lair without a care about the unwritten rules. The next implication helpfully supplied by her currently very irritating power was quite obvious – those soldiers either didn't know or care about the unwritten rules, which suddenly put this whole situation in a new and much more dangerous light. It suddenly dawned to Lisa why she was thinking about them as soldiers – those weren't heroes, neither law enforcement, especially one buried by red tape and PR constrains like the PRT and Protectorate. While they might not be villains – them helping that woman pointed that way, they might very well play by very different rules. Perhaps. May be. Not enough information… ouch. Her head hurt now.

And just like that the soldiers relaxed and lowered their guns a fraction. "Command wants a world with you. The boss might have a job offer for you three."

"We're all ears." Tattletale perked up. Speaking was certainly better than the alternatives – like being used for target practice.

"Certainly not here and now. Neither the boss nor a representative who can negotiate is in the area. How do we contact you?"

"PHO. PM All Seeing Eye." Lisa said the moment her power confirmed that they were most likely to make it out of the graveyard alive and in one piece.

"We'll be in touch. Now you better scamper and go out of the cold, kid."

It was telling that Lisa didn't even attempt to snark at all until they were far away from the boat graveyard.

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**=MK=**

**Part 4**

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* * *

_The assassination of Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, the most beloved, respected and capable Chancellor the Republic had in centuries if not since the Rusaan Reformation marked the death of the last, best chance for the old order to last. It is no secret that Palpatine was the one person who kept the Senate working by sheer force of personality, long lasting alliances, the respect his name carried and the fact that he obviously knew where all the political corpses were buried. Without him, the Republic's government ground to a halt at a critical juncture. The Jedi Coup was bad enough, it arguably guaranteed the fall of the Corellian system, it ensured that the Republic would begin to fragment within months and most grievously in military terms, it virtually guaranteed that the long awaited GAR major counter-offensive to regain lost ground and redress an often untenable military situation would come too late and be less powerful than it could have been. The Republic bled too many forces fighting with itself both during the Coup and the various clashes it sparkled, with every system that seceded either as a direct consequence and joined the CIS or later, when Satine Kenobi engineered her unorthodox election as a Chancellor after the Senate remained paralysed and deadlocked for a month. _

_The pressure of the Clone Wars and the loss of Chancellor Palpatine led to issues and 'features' that had plagued the Republic since its inception in its modern form come home to roost at the worst possible time. While many citizens across the galaxy believed in the idea of the Republic and supported it wholeheartedly, the sad truth was that it was just those systems and governments that joined the Confederacy that saw little use or benefit in it. _

_To the surprise of many and to the expectations to many others, when pressured the Republic fractured, without Chancellor Palpatine, it lacked a central unifying figure that the public could trust. Ironically, the same mechanisms that allowed him to be such an effective Chancellor – arguably the most effective one the Republic had in centuries if not since the days of the Reformation, ensured that the Senate wouldn't, couldn't elect a replacement. Suddenly, the post of a Chancellor held tremendous, unprecedented power, a power Palpatine's successor couldn't shed if they hoped to effectively prosecute the war, yet there was not a single person who could gather enough votes to be elected. Every possible candidate had too many detractors, frightened too many people and governments in power believing that their enemies would use said person to force down their agendas and cripple them at best. _

_It was in this environment that Ambassador Satine Kenobi from Mandalore entered a series of direct talks with many of the most powerful governments in the Core. Her husband, General Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had been appointed Commander in Chief of the GAR by Palpatine himself, offered her an insight into the highest echelons of the Republic military who were less than pleased with the situation as well as a direct line of communications with GAR High Command on Coruscant. _

_While details are scarce on the ground to this day, and most records about the meetings held between the Kenobis, multiple governments, and the military are currently classified and sealed for the next forty five years, however, certain facts make themselves clear. The majority of the GAR, who were painfully aware of the military situation, and the shrinking window of opportunity they had to launch an offensive to retake as much of the Core as possible, were ready to back any_ _option that might break the deadlock and untie their hands. Nowadays it is often overlooked that in the aftermath of the Jedi Coup and Chancellor Palpatine implementing Contingency Order 66 even as he lied dying in his office, the GAR lost operational control of most of its Clone units until they could receive a legitimate order not to pursue the traitors to the exclusion of almost everything else. Said legitimate authority laid with the next legally elected Chancellor, something that for a nerve racking month the Senate failed to produce..._

_The stage for the Republic's demise had been set. The only question now was how it would end – under the durasteel heels of the Confederacy's droid armies, or if someone would rise to the challenge, and reform it before it was too late. _

_Fortunately, two people did rose to the occasion. Ambassador Kenobi made the deals that won her the position of a Chancellor while General Kenobi delivered the bulk of the military on side and thus the slow process of establishing the new order began as one last, desperate attempt to save the Republic from itself..._

_**Empire from the ashes of a Republic**_

_**COMPNOR Publishing, Coruscant**_

**=MK=**

* * *

**Mandal Motors HQ**

**Mandalore**

**Mandalorian Freehold capital world**

A Mandalore dropping in unannounced seldom bodied well. This one in particular – much less than usual. He was a damned Sith after all; or that never sufficiently kriffed Sith for a significant part of the galaxy.

More concerning, none of Horus Yomaget's security precautions caught the approach or if they did no one dared inform him, which in fact was even more concerning. The first clue the Minister and CEO had of his visitor was when the heavy armoured doors leading into the High Energy Research Lab slid open without anyone, even the automated systems, issuing the expected warning. The second one was the Sith himself walking in without a care in the world wearing his usual customized armour. Behind him, fully kitted soldiers of the 501st Imperial Legion fanned in making sure no one would have the temerity to attack their commander. The 501st had fought under Veil's command ever since disaster struck them during the Second Battle of Geonosis, when Anakin Skywalker went off the reservation, and wasted their lives in his obsession with his wife. Nowadays, those soldiers were one of the three elite formations who were charged with the protection of the Imperial Family and their very presence was a pointed reminder about the fears many held, that if anything happened to the Kenobis and their daughter, then the next people in line of the succession were the Empress sister and her husband, the Dark Lord of the Sith himself.

One of the greatest ironies of the age was that for many, Veil's status as a Sith was much less of an issue than the fact that he was also Mandalore and worse, a leader to a resurgent Mandalorian people.

"Horus, my friend!" Mandalore the Restorer exclaimed in a booming voice that echoed throughout the lab. "You can't begin to understand how glad I am that you promptly informed me of this fascinating development."

The Minister smiled politely. Honestly, the thought to keep the discovery for himself so his Clan could reap the benefits first did cross his mind, for all of a heartbeat or two before reality reared its ugly head. He didn't want to contemplate what would happen to him and his Clan if he tried to keep Mandalore in the dark. There was a time during the war, when they made the deal that nominated Veil for the position that Horus believed that he and the other Clan Leader might be able if not control then at least direct and influence Veil. They ancestors had been able to do it with the Sith of the Empire in the past or so their histories claimed anyway.

As the war progressed and Veil stopped hiding what he was truly capable of, not to mention with the Kenobis consolidation of more and more power in the Republic, it eventually became clear that many of the Clan Leaders had miscalculated. Oh, Veil certainly delivered all that he promised them, though the price the Mandalorian people paid was oceans of blood.

This Mandalore might listen to advise, take it in consideration even follow through with it if he believed it to be a good idea but that was it – the Clan Leaders and the Council that notably held a lot of power in the Freehold ultimately answered to him. The few brave fools who had tested the bonds of their new positions were now cautionary tales along with every single member of their Clans who followed them on their ill conceived schemes.

Well, at least they didn't miscalculate as bad as the fools in the Core who put Satine up as a Chancellor and for a few years used her as little more than a puppet and a figure to take the blame for everything that went wrong in the fragmenting Republic. Some of them were even still alive and in power blissfully unaware what awaited them in the fullness of time. The smarter ones were doing their best to grovel in private and buy out their continued existence and perhaps a way to retain a modicum of power and influence in the new order… Depressingly enough, that was a mirror of what already happened in the Freehold.

Mandalore the Restorer walked through the lab until he stood besides Horus and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The man didn't look a year older than thirty five at worst, yet everyone who paid attention knew that biologically he was well over a hundred now.

"I'm merely doing my duty, Mandalore." Horus offered a salute with a clasped right fist above his heart.

"I'm sure you are." Veil spoke softly. "Just as long as we understand each other. Now, tell me all about this dimension portal you've built and what you've found on the other side. I understand that an advance party you sent has made contact with a local band of mercenaries and offered to meet them to discuss terms?"

Horus didn't know why he was surprised, considered how Mandalore just walked in the lab, which was deep below Mandal Motors Headquarters, the seat of Yomaget's power, without anyone bothering to inform their Clan Leader of said arrival.

He found himself almost missing the bad old days during the war when their side had its intelligence apparatus shattered, with parts of it either outright defecting to the enemy or simply going rogue in an ill thought out attempt to save the Republic from what they saw as the Sith successfully taking over. Because that one worked out splendidly for everyone involved, he thought sarcastically.

"You're well informed, sir."

"I spent most of the past year ensuring that our Intelligence agencies are finally working as advertised across the board." Mandalore didn't boast, merely stated a fact.

Nonetheless, it was a monumental task he had – once the dust on Coruscant settled after the Jedi's failure of a coup, only the Military Intelligence Division attached to the GAR had remained loyal as a whole. Every other such Republic wide outfit had senior officers or even Directors going rogue, not to mention multiple agents of all ranks and everyone who remained had to be carefully and painstakingly vetted in the middle of a war for survival no less.

Then there were the never sufficiently kriffed Bothans and all that entailed…

And Horus caught his mind drifting, which was dangerous at the best of times, but especially when facing a Sith. Mandalore apparently caught him not paying attention as well and gave him a pointed look. At least for all his faults the man was far from the horror stories about the Sith of old even if in some regards he was much more dangerous than those legends and records claimed.

"I'm sending my own representative on that meet and greet. She'll evaluate how trustworthy those mercenaries might be. The Undersiders, eh?" Veil looked thoughtful as he said the name. "There is something about this Earth Bet and the intelligence summaries I went over that makes my mind itch, Horus. It's like there is something I've forgotten."

"No matter what the locals believe, someone is playing with them. These parahumans, especially their tinkers – that's no magic. Someone is feeding them bits and pieces of technology, among other things."

"My thoughts exactly. If I didn't know better, my first idea would be that some of my people had made it over that side and are experimenting." Mandalore frowned as he spoke.

Yomaget was sure Veil wasn't talking about Mandalorians in this case but Sith, which was the last thing anyone needed. They all had enough trouble as it is with former Jedi gone rogue, outright fallen and what was left from the ORR Force Adepts now that the war was officially over. Sith who had been up to who knew what for unknown period of time in another dimension, that was a scary thought.

"We in fact don't know better, Horus. That's why I'm sending my apprentice with your contact team. For the time being Mandal Motors and your security department the Mandalorian Knights will continue to take point. My reasoning should be obvious."

"My people are deniable assets. The Freehold and the Empire can disavow their actions and any and all deals we make." Horus grimaced. He didn't like this at all. It was going to be technically illegal as hell too, not that it really mattered. To an ever increasing extent the laws were what the Imperial Family and especially in the Freehold, Mandalore wanted them to be or so it felt at times. Yomaget couldn't really protest if he was honest to himself. He and his corporation had profited mightily by the shenanigans that created the Freehold and the Empire, more than they could have ever expected if the Republic had continued to exist.

"That's not quite right and you know it, Horus." Mandalore chided. "My orders merely meant that any deals you make with the locals are between Mandal Motors and them. Neither the Empire nor the Freehold would necessary be bound by them, however we won't trample over you unless we have to. I do take care of my people as you well know."

"Even if it is for entirely selfish reasons."

"In my experience, enlightened self interest works wonders when done right."

"Especially when it means you do less running around to put down fires, and make examples out of people." Horus couldn't help but whisper.

"You've got that right, Minister." Mandalore nodded in approval.

Horus shook his head. He had been working with and for that man for years now and he was still unable to wrap his head around Veil.

"Any other 'suggestions'?" Yomaget asked ruefully.

"Perhaps, once we've went through the latest intelligence summaries and your plans for contacting and hiring the Undersiders."


	2. Chapter 2 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it. **

**AN: This part was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**23 December 2010**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Air conditioning was the best thing ever, or so Lisa though as she laid curled under all the blankets she could get her grabby hands on. The AC blasted at full power, she had a steaming mug of hot, strong tea on a chair next to her bed and she was finally beginning to feel kinda warm. Her power continued to point out to her that this was all her fault for going out in her costume or for choosing to use such a costume in this weather, which was one of the downsides of the situation.

Well, her form fitting costume looked very nice on her so take that, power!

Lisa promptly sneezed launching a gob of snot to her blanket.

Eww…Her power, the traitor, immediately began supplying all kinds of icky facts too, forcing her to crawl out from her comfortable cozy nest and clean up the mess. Lisa did it grumbling, all the while and went for her laptop, which she had left open at the far corner of the large bed. She needed a distraction, now, damn it! It was time to mercilessly troll someone on PHO! She logged in, scanned her messages for anything interesting enough and was a bout to go searching for victims, perhaps Void Cowboy, if by some miracle he hadn't managed to get himself banned, again, when a new PM pinged into her inbox.

Lisa opened it and the moment she laid her eyes on the text inside, both her mind and power went on overdrive. It was from a new, unverified account, however what mattered was the avatar picture – it was that of a very familiar helmet with a stylized 'T' shaped visor.

The message was simple and to the point.

'_Twenty thousand in gold per Undersider for meeting to discuss a possible employment contract.'_

An address followed, which after a hasty check turned out to be an abandoned warehouse in the docks bordering the boat graveyard.

This was… for a few moments the message struck Lisa speechless. That was a lot of money for a meet and greet. Her first thought once her brain rebooted was that this was a trap, yet that didn't make any sense. Those soldiers could have likely taken them two nights ago, killed them for sure and her power wholeheartedly agreed. What did those people want with a bunch of obscure if not still anonymous small time villains?

Power? Come on, anything...?

Did she just imagined it, or did it really flash **'NOT ENOUGH DATA**_**'**_ through her head? This was all the dumb cold's fault, it had to be! Lisa glared at the message and after it refused to change or better yet, vanish, she went for her phone. She had to call Grue and Bitch.

Coil too, she thought with distaste. At least they were liable to keep the money unless everything went to hell.

Naturally, that very night, everything did go to hell. In a hindsight, Lisa really should have seen that one coming.

* * *

**=MK=**

**23 December 2010**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

It took Tattletale a lot of needling, cajoling, promises, and outright abuse of her power to convince Grue and Bitch to come join her on another midnight excursion in the freezing fog. Even the mutant dogs didn't like the idea, and gave her the stink eye when she arrived at the hideout. What mattered was that they made to the warehouse in time and so far there were no warning bells ringing in Lisa's head.

"This better be good." Grue grumbled quietly in his helmet and Tattletale was sure she only made out his words thanks to her power.

"It's just a job interview," Tattletale dismissed. "Besides, the boss would like us to attend and test the waters anyway!"

Well, not quite. Coil was in fact very insistent that they came so they could gather as much information as possible, which Lisa was to report back ASAP. _Or else._

Tonight she was going to lie her bony ass with the best of them, because Tattletale really wasn't looking into figuring out what exactly or else meant. She had the nigging suspicion that it would end with a 9mm lobotomy, if she was lucky.

Pro tip, she wasn't feeling particularly lucky since the day Coil's people grabbed her and he made that irresistible offer of his.

"Lead the way, oh fearless leader!" Tattletale proclaimed with an exaggerated flourish and shallow bow, gesturing at the dark warehouse.

"I'm going to regret this, I just know it..." Grue grumbled yet followed Lisa's suggestion and gently guided Brutus towards the building.

When they approached the entrance, the door opened from the inside and a helmet pocked out. "Get off the street." A metallic voice demanded.

The teenage villains looked at each other wondering how many of those soldiers were around and if they all carried one of those oversized guns. "You're the leader Grue. Do lead the way as the nice soldier boy asked. Let's not find out what might happen if we decide to ditch our appointment at the last possible moment." Lisa suggested.

Grue froze at her words and turned his helmet her way in a mechanical fashion. "You said we would be safe!" He hissed accusingly.

"And I don't know any different!" Tattletale hissed back. "I don't have enough data to work with! All I know for certain is that if they wanted us dead, or to grab us they would have acted the last time!"

"Will we go in or go back? My dogs are cold." Bitch grumbled not really paying much attention to her teammates.

"We go in." Lisa affirmed.

"God damn it, Tattletale! One of these days..." Grue swore, yet he guided Brutus closer to the warehouse.

"Don't worry, I bet everything is going to be all right and we'll all walk out of here twenty grand richer!" Lisa said more to reassure herself than for the benefit of her teammates.

"You dodn't just taunt Murphy like that, Tattletale! Not in the middle of a job!" Grue snapped.

"Oh, please, don't tell me you believe in that superstitious nonsense! Both my power and I can assure you..." Lisa explained as they got off the dogs and Bitch ordered them to stay put.

"Tattletale, not another word!" Grue ordered gravely. This girl was going to be the death of him, Brian just knew it. Who taunted Murphy so glibly way anyway?!

* * *

**=TK=**

Speaking of the devil, Murphy that night took the role of Coil, who was deep within his lair sitting in a sinfully comfortable leather chair watching an array of monitor feeds. His power was the ultimate safety net, allowing him to abuse reality itself in any way he saw fit.

In one timeline he let his Tattletale and her team enter the warehouse and gather information by themselves. In the other, he ordered the strike team he'd send to shadow his minions to test the new tinker and the people he or she had working for them. Everything went smoothly for all of ten seconds before his power glitched, and he found himself on the floor curled in the fetal position, and nursing a murderous headache...

* * *

**=TK=**

**Part 2**

**=TK=**

* * *

_At precisely midnight on the 24th of December 2010, an energy burst propagated through Earth Bet and its moon. It went undetected and unnoticed by the great majority of people and shards connected with their hosts through tiny dimensional portals. _

_A small fraction of people unfortunate enough to to have triggered with certain "precognitive" powers experienced a brief epileptic episode, very painful and unpleasant, though fortunately not having direct lasting repercussions._

_The architect of the event briefly shook with excitement at a job well done. It had achieved its goal – it would continue to exist and spread for long time to come. _

_Now the Force was born anew and rapidly spreading through thousands, tens of thousands of dimensions, while on Earth Bet a few unlucky people did face repercussions of the brief glitch caused by the intangible energy field jumping realities..._

* * *

**=MK=**

**24 December 2010**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

The Undersiders might have been none the wiser, however stealth drones observed their approach ever since they came anywhere near the docks. The three teenage villains might have missed the mercenaries trailing them from a safe distance, however the same couldn't be said for the concealed Mandalorian teams standing guard.

"Raptor One, Raptor Actual, we've got Bandits in the grid. Keep an eye on them. Over."

"Raptor Actual, Raptor One, affirmative. We've got eyes on them. Two wheeled vehicles, thermals show a squad worth of Bandits in each. We have them on scope. Over."

"Raptor Two, Raptor one, Bandits will enter your AO in thirty seconds. Over.

"All Raptor Call-signs, Raptor Actual, local law enforcement and military bands are clear. If this is their operation they're either keeping it quiet or on encrypted channels we currently can't monitor. ROE Arubesh. Confirm."

"Raptor Actual, Raptor Two, ROE Arubesh, roger that. We'll take them alive if practical."

A chorus of confirmations came from the rest of the deployed security elements.

Within the warehouse the Undersiders were about to enter, three armoured people listened to the unfolding situation without showing any outward sign of concern. One of them was a fully armoured Zabrak male, the representative of the Mandalorian Knights for the meeting. Any deals made with the Undersiders would see them technically working with and for Mandal Motors security division.

The second male of the trio stood on the other side of the tall female in the center. Despite the armour he wasn't actually a soldier but an intelligence operative and one of the two primary negotiators.

Last but certainly not the least was the woman, who was the leader of the small party – she was the only one who had her face on display and that was a calculated risk. It would be interesting to see how the locals might react at seeing a genuine if near human alien. Currently the bets were on them simply taking Aria as yet another of those Case 53's.

It was a safe bet too. When the tree kids entered, none of them really bat an eye at seeing a blue skinned woman with solid red eyes smiling at them.

"Welcome. I'm Aria." The Chiss introduced herself. She waved at a plain metal table nearby. It had six folding chairs around it representing the only furniture within the abandoned warehouse. "Do come and have a seat. We have much to talk about.

Predictably, the Undersiders' eyes did follow the direction of Aria's gesture and their eyes widened when they saw the three large gold ingots laying on the table.

"As promised, this is your payment for agreeing to attend this meeting. No matter what you decide once we're done talking, you'll leave with the gold, unmolested." she assured.

"That's good to know. We don't want any trouble." The little blond girl said.

"That's good to hear. In that case, can one of you explain the two transports full of armed people approaching our location as we speak? They did follow you here, after all." Aria's pleasant smile didn't change as she asked her question. Here eyes bored in those of the masked blond girl as she tasted the kids' emotions.

The larger, almost feral feeling girl felt simple detached interest at the question. Her emotions were odd, they had more common to those of a pack animal than a human. The boy was the most surprised by the three. His emotions flared in delicious shock mixed with fear and confusion.

Now, the blonde, she was the most interesting. There was a fear and surprise there as well, however the most powerful feelings coming from her were anger, likely because she didn't see this coming and resignation.

"This has nothing to do with us!" The boy slowly raised his arm showing his open palms to Aria and her companions. He felt ready to bolt and surely use his power to facilitate said escape. Observing it would be certainly interesting, however it might prove counter-productive if the kids' emotions didn't lie.

"I'll advise against trying to flee. Our security has this well in hand, and if our uninvited guests prove hostile they will subdue or neutralize them." Aria explained, reinforcing her voice with the Force in order to calm down the Undersiders.

"Fuck, she's a Master!" The blonde girl explained in a sudden panic.

"In here, hurt!" The large girl, Bitch, was it, snapped just as a cloud of darkness exploded from the boy.

The escape attempt ended as soon as it began. The cloud of darkness might have been able to hide them from sight, perhaps from some sensors as well – Aria would know that soon, however it had absolutely no effect on the Force.

To her Force senses the trio shone just as brightly within the cloud of darkness as if it wasn't even there. She could visually perceive the black rolling cloud as well, and Aria could honestly say that she'd never seen anything like it before, a most curious development. Those three were lucky that Zash wasn't anywhere near Mandalore, much less close to the portal.

Blasters echoed from outside and the three mutant canines crashed into a heap in front of the door just before they could begin to tear themselves a large enough entrance.

"Well, this could have gone better. Capture our uninvited guests as well, we'll be asking everyone pointed questions." Aria sighed. "Simple meet and greet my ass. Why do my missions always go to hell?" The young Sith grumbled to herself before returning her attention to the three Undersiders she had in stasis. "Make a note, immobilizing a Parahuman might have no effect whatsoever on their power." Despite being frozen like an insect in a ball of amber, the three teenagers remained obscured by the cloud of darkness.

Aria sighed and yanked the boy away from his teammates. Currently his frozen form produced a shaking cloud of darkness about six and half meters across.

"If I release you, will one of you two make him knock this off or should I just knock him out?" Aria addressed the girls. The hound controller was a delicious ball of fury and fear, curiously not for herself. The beasts outside then. The other one, Tattletale, well she was appropriately cowed by the situation.

"Whats with you Sith, and Jedi for that matter, and complications?" The intelligence agent finally spoke in a long suffered tone.

"No one sends us on blue milk runs unless they've been working on faulty intelligence." Aria pointed out.

"Whatever. The paperwork on this one..."


	3. Chapter 2 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it. **

**AN: This part was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**24 December 2010**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Two vans carrying experienced mercenaries accelerated towards their target. Inside, twelve men and women made a final check on their gear – assault rifles, shotguns and SMGs, all with a tinkertech laser mounted under their weapons' barrels. They had the firepower and other assorted equipment to deal with most capes, who often tended to be quite squishy if you could actually hit them in the first place. The lasers would account for some brutes too – which would come in handy when facing gang members wearing tinkertech sourced armour.

The primary issue the mercenaries had was the lack of information, which was why they intended to hit hard and fast, relying on shock, awe and initiative to carry them through. That and the fact that so far the boss knew what he was doing – as far as any of them knew, he had never sent his people on a suicide mission before.

Nevertheless, the twelve mercenaries did expect for their mission to go to hell as soon as they made contact with the enemy and they weren't disappointed. As soon as they had the target warehouse in sight and accelerated towards it, multiple blue bolts of light shot from a nearby roof and before the drivers could react, slammed into the front of the vans.

The good news was that the cars didn't disintegrate in balls of fire and screaming shrapnel, turning them all into a mincemeat. However, the cars, which were hardened against EMP, died anyway along with any and all lights and electronic displays. The one saving grace was that the hydraulic brakes still worked, and the drivers managed to bring the vehicles to a controlled stop.

"Pop smoke and find cover!" The two team leaders wasted no time issuing orders. "Control, we've been ambushed!" One of them reported only to hear angry hiss from his radio. Jamming, a distant part of his mind supplied even as he was following his own orders, running for cover as half-dozen smoke grenades shrouded the vans.

Searing bolts of blue energy rained down upon the dispersing mercenaries from multiple angles as they dropped one after another. Only two of them managed to send short bursts in the general direction of the incoming fire before being stunned.

"Raptor Actual, Raptor Two. Area secured. We've got twelve stunned captives. No casualties. I say again, twelve prisoners, no casualties. Please advise, over."

"Raptor Two, Raptor Actual, secure the prisoners and prepare them for transport. New orders, we're collecting your prisoners and any material of interest before going back to the barn. Over."

* * *

**=MK=**

"What do you mean we're to bring them all back?" Aria frowned at the comm unit built into the left bracer of her armour.

"Given the complications, it is not prudent that you hang around for any longer than necessary, Starfire. This comes straight from the boss after we reported the situation. My guess? Command wants to see how our new friends will react when they figured exactly who and what we are, before the brass refines their plans for official contact."

"That _actually_ sounds reasonable." The Intel officer commented in wonderment.

"My Master is usually reasonable." Aria grumbled. "Unless someone has been an incompetent fool, or managed to otherwise piss him off."

"Perish the thought. We all know what happens then."

"You don't know the half of it." Aria shook her head. "Well, children, congratulations, you three are in for a treat." She smiled brightly at the still frozen Undersiders. "I hope none of you is afraid of flying."

"What about those beasts out there?"

"Good question. What about your pets, hound girl?" Aria asked. She waved a hand and the invisible stasis field holding Rachel in place vanished making her stumble.

"What did you do to my dogs?!" The large teen growled.

"They're stunned. Will they be all right if we leave them out here?"

"I'm not leaving my dogs behind!" Bitch snapped.

"Those are dogs?" Aria raised a delicate eyebrow. "They're too big and dangerous to safely bring with us."

Rachel looked mutinous, while Aria glanced at the girl in purple bodysuit who currently felt a whirlwind of emotions. She released the teen with a thought and looked at her deadpan. "You have something to say?"

"Bitch can make the dogs shrink back to their normal size. If you want to bring us anything and leave them behind, she'll act up."

"I see. Do your magic. If they misbehave, we'll deal with them _permanently_. Am I clear?" Aria stared down Rachel who glowered back but soon backed down. "Splendid."

A few minutes later, Tattletale began to have second thoughts in between cursing her power, which in turn continued to insist that unless provoked their captors weren't going to harm them. Being led into large blocky aircraft that was clearly build for war, was anything but reassuring. The flying machines were obviously tinkertech – there were three of them, they were rather large and most importantly, identical.

They were obviously mass produced as well, and had odd markings – an unknown language – her power supplied. The fact that it could identify them as a language but it couldn't tell her what it said, was simply the latest odd occurrence that night.

Things went from bad to worse as Tattletale's mind registered the two disabled vans and twelve unconscious mercenaries being bound by several soldiers, equipped with the same gear as the first squad the Undersiders had met a few days ago. This simply reinforced the dawning realization, that whatever the three of them had stumbled into was not just some rogue tinker.

There was no way that a single tinker, or even a group could gather this level of resources without bringing attention to themselves, everything about these people practically screamed military as well. What have they gotten themselves into?!

After the Undersiders found themselves strapped securely into metal seats accompanied by ten soldiers and the blue Case 53, they experienced a few short minutes of comfortable and turbulence flee flight. They landed softly and the back ramp of the aircraft hissed open. That was when Lisa's mind simply shut down even as her power went on overdrive, and nearly knocked her out. The lowered ramp opened towards the entrance of a massive hangar, one protected by a dull blue shield. All Lisa could see outside were countless shining stars and the grey, cratered surface of the Moon.

For the first time in her life, words utterly failed her. Little did Lisa know that this was just the beginning…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Observation lounge**

**Republic scout frigate _Nemesis_**

Aria, the blue cape, and ten soldiers, escorted Tattletale and Grue to what they called the lounge – a small area set up like a bar complete with windows showing the curve of the Moon. Bitch remained behind in the hangar fussing over her still sleeping dogs. Even as dazzled as she was, Lisa didn't fail to notice that the hangar was full of armoured troopers, undoubtedly ready to stop Rachel if she enhanced her dogs and ordered them on a rampage. If all else failed, Tattletale was sure that someone would shut down the force field keeping in the air, and the ravages of space – safely outside, and that would be it. She doubted that something like that happening would be much of an issue for those soldiers.

The fact that they were currently on an honest to God spaceship had frightening implications. First, how the hell it was up here considering the Simurgh?! For all Lisa knew, the Endbringer should have intercepted it, or at least the shuttles either on their way down or up, yet thankfully, the white bitch hasn't swooped into kill them all, or worse. Lisa didn't really want to think about the implications from that tiny fact right now.

While Grue's helmet did a great job of hiding his face and expression, the stiff – almost mechanical – way he followed the Case 53 spoke volumes of how shocked he really was. Lisa wasn't handling it much better, her power going berserk cataloguing everything she saw didn't help. It reached all kinds of startling conclusions too, she was almost certain that this ship wasn't tinker made – something that Tattletale grew more and more convinced of with every passing moment. What little they were allowed to see spoke of well established technology, technology that the people who had built this ship understood perfectly. This simply fed on and explained everything Lisa saw from the soldiers and their equipment ever since she laid eyes upon them for the first time. Of course it all appeared uniform – it was all mass produced, in a sense not fundamentally different from the uniforms and armour used by the police and PRT, just orders of magnitude more advanced.

"Do have a seat, kids." Aria suggested after they reached the lounge and she gave them a few moments to gather their wits – it didn't really help. "We'll be here for a bit. Security protocols." The Case 53 confided.

Grue simply crashed on the nearest free chair without a word, while Lisa slowly made her way to the window – on a space ship, wasn't that a structural weakness? - and looked outside. She could see a part of the moon, for a few seconds anyway. Then the ship moved, very fast, her power supplied, yet there was no sense of acceleration, and didn't that have interesting implications... Within moments, the ship headed into deep space, which rang even more alarm bells in Lisa's head, something she believed no longer possible.

"Where are we going?" Tattletale heard herself ask.

"Back home for a visit. Do you want a drink?" Aria waved at the nearby bar. "You look like you could use one."

Lisa looked at it, it was no different from any bar she had seen – shelves with bottles and glasses, a counter, chairs, the works, then she glanced back at the empty space outside, and nodded numbly.

"All hands, prepare for transitions." A confident female voice came from hidden speakers.

"We shouldn't feel a thing." Aria tried to reassure them.

One moment they flew towards the distant stars, in the next, the empty space in front of the ship twisted, and Tattletale's power red-lined making her stumble as her head exploded in pain. There was just too much information, she simply couldn't comprehend what her power was telling her!

As soon as it began it was over, they were through whatever that was and for a brief, blessed moment, Lisa's power was silent. She realized that the only reason she hadn't planted her face into the floor, was a firm armoured hand gripping her shoulder. Tattletale managed to mutter a thanks and carefully raised her head, she couldn't help herself, and looked through the window.

That was a mistake…

One of the first things Lisa managed to register, was that they were no longer anywhere near Earth, though it took some time for her abused mind to register that fact. The blue, green and yellow planet below had too little water on display and the landmasses were all the wrong shape. She could make up large forest belts, at least a few seas and one huge desert dotted with blue and green spots. Even from this distance, Tattletale could see a few cities larger than anything on Earth even if a lot of the real estate down there appeared curiously empty, at least from this distance.

However, what caught most of her attention and left her stunned was what she could see in space. To put it simply, as far as she could see, the visible area was simply cramped with ships coming and going. They were in all sizes too – as small as a car, or the shuttles that brought the Undersiders to this ship, all the way up to behemoths that must be kilometres long. More than a few of those were obvious cargo haulers – like one gargantuan ship to the upper right that looked like it was made out of containers stacked on top of each other.

As if that wasn't insane enough, the there colossal shapes that inched into view from the left side of the window, only pushed Lisa's sense of incredulity further. Despite the illusion distance provided, they were moving anything but slowly, her power supplied gently even as it went more and more haywire. What left her mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief, another thing she no longer believed possible considering everything else she had seen tonight – was the simple fact that those dagger shaped ships were very much familiar to every science fiction fan on either Earth. She had seen Star Wars, the Prequels too – both from Bet and Aleph, there was no mistaking Venator Star Destroyers.

"Impossible!" Lisa whispered as her mind came to a screeching halt.

_Alternative dimension, _Tattletale's treacherous power supplied just before it went off the reservation and turned her whole world into pure agony, the last thing she registered before everything went black, was collapsing bonelessly into Aria's arms.

* * *

**=MK=**

Lisa came to consciousness, laying on something soft, warm and sinfully comfortable – more comfortable than her own very expensive bed back in her apartment. Her face scrunched in irritation at feeling sunlight streaming into the room, something that now that she was vaguely aware, brought dull pain to her head.

What the hell happened? Trying to remember was a slow and involved process – her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and for once her power was utterly silent. For some reason, she felt relieved instead of terrified by the lack of input. _Oh._ Her power went haywire and her head felt like exploding, that much she could remember. It happened while she was having the oddest, and most vivid dream she's ever experienced…

Lisa's eyes shot wide open and she surged up, only succeeding in tangle herself into a comforter so warm and light that it felt like a second skin. Tattletale didn't even notice it was there until she fell back on the mattress after unwittingly cocooning herself. The sharp motion was enough to make her brain detonate with agonizing pain. It hurt so much she didn't dare try and get up or even untangle herself afterwards. Instead, she simply laid there, whimpering and hoping that the pain would stop. She vaguely heard a soft whine, and sensed someone or something coming closer but she couldn't register it properly. The only thing Lisa cared about was the screaming pain in her skull!

Something touched her neck and cool sensation spread throughout her veins. Lisa jolted in sudden fear, someone just drugged her, the sharp movement driving another spike of agony through her brain.

Thankfully, whatever the drug was, it continued to spread through her veins in a cool wave that soon soothed the pain, making it bearable. Eventually, Lisa dared crack her eyes open, and cautiously looked around. She was in a large, well lit room painted in a pleasant soft green colour. The huge window that took up most of the wall to her right, immediately caught her attention. It displayed a stunning vista of a sprawling city under construction, no… it was reconstruction. Even as dozy as she currently was, Lisa could see a lot of damage.

The place looked like it had gone a round or two with Behemoth and lost, badly, before people began to rebuild it. There wasn't a single building in sight that didn't show some sign of damage or lack construction crews crawling all over them. As if that wasn't enough, there were honest to God giant robots helping the rebuilding, and they looked as if they came straight out of a Japanese anime! At least their colour scheme was a sensible dark green. There were enough colours and flashes outside to cause her a headache at the best of times even without adding the wet dreams of Japanese otakus to the mix. There were thousands if not tens of thousands or people and all kinds of machines buzzing all over the place, busy putting it back together. It was a dazzling display and as tired and in pain as she was, Lisa didn't even want to think about the implications.

"I'm not in Kansas any more..." Lisa whispered in a stunned disbelief.

"Certainly not." An amused voice declared from her right.

Tattletale's head snapped in that direction, shocked that she hadn't noticed there was someone else present. The blue cape sat on a chair near her bed, holding a large and bulky tablet in her hands. Behind her floated a disturbing spider-like robot, one that had multiple spindly manipulators attached to a central cylindrical body. It looked as if it had come straight from the deranged dream of Bonesaw or Mannequin, an impression reinforced by all the wicked instruments at the ends of many of its appendages. Its glowing red eyes did nothing to reassure Lisa that she wasn't about to be tortured, or worse – vivisected.

"Oh, don't mind the medical droid. It won't hurt you." Aria – that was the cape's name, right, tried to reassure Lisa.

It didn't really work.

"If you're wondering, your friends are all right. Rachel is exercising her dogs, and Brian went to find a bite to eat." The Case 53 explained.

Reflexively, Lisa's hands went to her face only to find it bare of any mask. These people knew who the Undersiders were, something that should have terrified her, yet wasn't really surprising. From what she had already seen, she didn't think that these people, whoever they were, would concern themselves with such trivialities like the Unwritten Rules.

Lisa silently observed the woman, who merely peered back at her a blank expression on her face and what might have been interest in her solid red eyes.

"Those were Star Destroyers I saw before blacking out, right?" Lisa asked, afraid that the woman might confirm an impossible truth.

"We passed by a Venator squadron on the way to quarantine." Aria confirmed.

Venators were good, right? They might mean that this was the Republic as insane as it sounded even in Lisa's own mind. She was afraid to ask the next logical question, but did it anyway. "Where am I?" _When, __really _she wanted to scream, 'How am I here?!'

"You're in a private hospital room in Sundari, on the planet Mandalore, the capital world of the Mandalorian Freehold, a member state of the Federated Galactic Empire."

That answer both made a terrible amount of sense and none whatsoever. _Power? Any help, _Lisa screamed in her head. Her only answer was a dull throbbing, which left her drifting in a sea of anxiety and fear.

"The Galactic Empire?" Tattletale dared ask. Was this woman a crazy Sith? Were they going to torture her for fun?!

"Yep. Not Palpatine's if that you're afraid of. We did notice that fascinating alternative history so famous in your media, Star Wars, was it? Any idea how you got so much right, and even more wrong?" An amused smile appeared on Aria's face as she asked her question.


	4. Chapter 2 Parts 5&6

**AN: This part was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Royal Palace**

**Sundari **

**Mandalore**

The Undersiders spent a day resting and exploring the city – at least the few parts that were more or less safe for sight seeing with all the construction going on. They were all nervous and not just because they found themselves on an alien world in another dimension, nor was it the hundred different alien species they saw. It was the sheer impossibility of that this place represented. Star Wars was supposed to be a fiction, a fun make-believe to watch and try and forget the problems of the real world.

Instead, there they were – on a war ravaged Mandalore, a planet still recovering from bitter fighting in a galaxy one year out of the Clone Wars, Clone Wars that had little in common with the entertainment media back home. Lisa wondered if she could have wrapped her head around the little she picked up so far if her power had been working – dozens of ravaged worlds, many turned uninhabitable. Whole species brought to the brink of extinction or beyond it, civilizations that have stood for longer than Earth has had written language broken or even wiped out of existence. A death toll that would see the combined population of Earth Bet _and_ Aleph, lost as a rounding error.

Jedi, and more importantly, Sith – beings of terrible power who made the worst villains back home appear in comparison as mere children playing harmless games in the backyard… and they were about to meet one. Well, that wasn't exactly right, was it, Lisa wondered in apprehension. The nice and kind blue woman, who wasn't a Case 53 after all but an alien, a Chiss, wasn't just their minder. She wasn't a Jedi either, more's the pity. She was a Sith, the Dark Lord's Apprentice and if that wasn't bad enough, they were about to meet him.

At least it wasn't Sidious, though that was a cold comfort.

"My Master is going to find your fear hilarious." Aria confided as she led them around an odd looking monument, build upon a large clear area – the Sundari Royal Palace.

The building had its aboveground portion erased early in the war and thus the monument. Apparently, the underground levels had been fully restored and acted as Mandalore's residence when he was on the planet and he was the Sith in question. Who in their right mind made him a head of state, Lisa would never know.

"For some strange reason, I'm not surprised." Lisa muttered.

"The next dimension over and people are still terrified of him." The Chiss forged on. "However, he might not be pleased that you're likely judging him on distorted information about Sith in general."

"Didn't he burn down whole worlds?" Brian dared ask.

"There were many people who did it during the war, and a significant number of them are hailed as heroes by one side, while the other decries them as insane butchers, who must be put down for the good of the galaxy." Aria shrugged. "One man's monster can be another's hero."

Yep, these weren't the good guys, Lisa thought. Fuck my luck. On the bright side, they hadn't put a gun to her head, and demanded she work for them, '_or else'_. On the other hand, she had the nagging suspicion that the Undersiders were about to be given an offer they couldn't refuse.

Aria led them to a heavily guarded elevator one level below the surface. There were at least twenty heavy armed, and armoured soldiers – bulkier armour and the biggest man-portable guns, that she had seen in this dimension so far. There were a pair of huge four legged robots near the door too and each one of those had enough weapons to give a ramped up Lung pause.

The soldiers saluted Aria and waved the small group under some flying robots that scanned them as they passed below. After that they boarded the elevator, its doors slid closed and within moments opened again, revealing another corridor made of grey polished metal. "We're almost there." Aria said and led them to a nearby door that was practically invisible against the wall to the right. It opened soundlessly and the Sith woman walked in waving at them to follow. "Master, your guests are here."

Mandalore the Restorer, the Dark Lord of the Sith, the General – those were the tittles Lisa heard people call him. When she saw him, her eye began to twitch in disbelief. Granted, Palpatine didn't look like much in the movies, and everyone knew what he could do. This man, he was no different. Unremarkable face, middle aged, short black hair cut in a military style, pale skin, black eyes – no glowing gold irises.

"I though you'd be taller..." Lisa blurted out, once again her mouth engaging before her brain. She gasped and clasped both hands over her mouth in equal measures of mortification and mortal terror.

The man smirked and suddenly all light, everything warm and good leeched out of the room. All Lisa could see was the Sith, who calmly sat in his oddly shaped chair, larger than life. His very presence demanded obedience and awe, he was… the Master effect ceased as fast as it appeared, leaving behind a smirking man.

"Children these days." The Sith snorted. "Do have a seat." He ordered.

His words broke the spell and Lisa could breath again. She gasped for air and looked around, refusing to even glance at the Sith. The room was plain – blue metal walls and ceiling, black floor, one large solid table in the centre with their host sitting on its other side, a dozen or more chairs placed throughout the room, with a built in computer terminal in front of each seat. Beyond that, the room was utterly spartan.

The Undersiders sat as soon as they heard the order.

"Introductions are in order, I believe. I am Delkatar Veil, Mandalore and a General of the Imperial Military." He raised and eyebrow at the Undersiders when no one hurried to offer their name.

"Tatt..." A pointed look from Veil, made Lisa feel like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Lisa, Lisa Wilbourn." She introduced herself with her other fake name.

"Good enough for government work, I guess." The dark eyes shifted to lay upon Grue.

"Brian Laborn." The Undersiders leader quietly introduced himself. There was no trace of the confidence he usually tried to project with mixed results.

"And you, young lady?" The Sith addressed a mulish Rachel.

All Lisa could do was pray that Bitch wouldn't act like, well a bitch today. Doing so could prove fatal or worse.

"Rachel." She grumbled. "Rachel Lindt."

"Good. It wasn't so hard, was it?" Veil asked in an amused voice. "Lets get to business. What do you want?"

Lisa twitched at that question. This wasn't going like she feared, so far anyway, and she didn't know if this was a good thing or not.

"Why do you care?" Rachel asked. Immediately the Sith's attention shifted to her.

"Miss Lindt, I am the head of state, and one of the most powerful people in this whole galaxy with all that entails." The Sith patiently explained, something that surprised Lisa. She was sure that he would bite off Rachel's head at the very least.

Aria chose that moment to softly snort at Veil's declaration. "One of?" She asked in a mocking tone.

"We can't be seen undermining Obi-Wan's and Satine's authority without a good reason, can we?" Obviously it was a rhetorical question.

Lisa knew that all this could be just a performance for their sake. It was likely even – the one sure thing was that Aria obviously had the Force, and could wipe the floor with the Undersiders without breaking sweat. Why would a head of state take the time to meet and speak with small-time villains?

"Do answer the question, children. What do you want?" The Sith asked again and this time there was a power in his voice. Lisa felt pressure settling over her and felt compelled to answer. Fucking Masters!

"I want Coil dead!" She snapped. "I want to be free and safe! I want enough money to live comfortably!" As soon as she blurted it out, her hands went to her mouth for a second time that day.

"I want to take custody of my sister and keep her safe..." Brian trailed off, horrified at what he just revealed to a pair of Sith of all people.

Rachel, well, her declaration was to be expected. "I want to take care of my dogs. Keep dogs safe and well cared for." She said in a morose tone.

"Good. Was it so hard?" The Sith gave them a slight smile and the pressure wave retreated letting the Undersiders breathe easier.

"Miss Wilbourn, how does a couple of million, new identity and a retirement home on a Mandalorian world of your choosing sound?" The Devil offered Lisa a damn tempting deal. "Mr Laborn, I'm sure that once we have established official contact with Earth Bet's governments we can set you up as a local consultant, offer you a stable job and access to the best lawyers money could buy." Finally Veil turned to Rachel, who bravely and stupidly glared at him. "Miss Lindt, we can offer you many excellent places to settle, where no one would come to bother you or your dogs..."

"What do we have to do?" Lisa asked. The offers sounded to good to be true, and she really wasn't looking forward to see the other shoe to drop. '_I am altering the deal,__ pray I don't alter it any further,'_Vader's infamous quote echoed in Lisa's mind.

"You'll be local consultants working for us..." The Sith began explaining his dastardly scheme. Deep down, Lisa knew that they could hardly refuse; and to think she thought Coil was bad. At least he had to put a gun to her head, to make her feel utterly helpless and powerless…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Hangar B**

**Mandalorian Cruiser _Vengean__c__e_**

**High orbit above Mandalore**

In the aftermath of the Clone Wars, every sapient who wished to remain in the military had a several options. First, if they weren't a member already, they could enlist within the ever expanding Imperial Armed Forces or Navy. Second, they could either return to or enlist with their local System Defence force, provided that there were free billets in there. Third, and generally least desirable, they could muster out and try to find work with the security forces back home, and few soldiers had the temperament or desire to become simple law enforcement. That was when both the Mandalorian Freehold and the Mid-Rim Alliance, technically the largest members of the Federated Empire, announced that they were both recruiting and establishing officer and enlisted personnel exchange programs.

For many who served under the General during the war, it was no brainier and they flocked to the Freehold. Say what you will about the General, he took care of his own.

Firmus Piett and his friend Maximilian Veers were among the first officers to volunteer for the exchange program, something easily facilitated considering that they served under the General for years now. It helped that for close to two years Piett served as Veil's aide de-camp before being promoted to spent the rest of the war as an officer serving in different roles on the General's flagship.

Nowadays, Firmus was a proud Captain in command of a brand new Palpatine class Star Destroyer, the _Vengeance. _She was a nice ship and had an experienced and highly motivated crew – a mix of Clones who after the war declined to directly serve the Empire but instead decided to honour the memory of the Republic by fighting under the banner of the man who fought longest and hardest to preserve it; Mandalorians hell-bent on keeping any and all enemies from touching the soil of one of the Freehold's worlds made up the rest of the crew. Piett couldn't have asked for better motivated and more eager subordinates.

During his time as the General's aide, Firmus had to deal with many odd orders and requests. As one of the people Veil trusted enough to take under his wing, Piett had expected that said state of affairs might continue, now that he was detached on a three year long tour of duty with the Freehold's Navy.

The General didn't disappoint, if anything, he outdid himself. Firmus could still perfectly recall the high security briefing that led to a considerable percentage of the Freehold's total naval power concentrating at or near Mandalore. The boffins at Mandal Motors had somehow managed to create a dimension breach, and found what appeared to be a primitive version of humanity's long lost and forgotten home world, complete with their strange and dangerous equivalent of Force Adepts, and many of them.

It was both fascinating and concerning, especially the intercepts about those so called Endbringers. It should have been a joke, but then again, there was that kriff up with the Zilo beast a few years ago… If those things were a weaponized local equivalent, with something resembling limited Force powers, Piett could see how the locals might have their hands full with them.

The transit car he rode from the CIC to the hangar finally halted, its door opened and the Captain stepped out. Obviously, the General wanted him to be a part of dealing with this Earth Bet issue – even if he hadn't received explicit instructions to that effect yet. Otherwise, the prisoners recovered by the recon element wouldn't have been sent to his ship.

Piett found said prisoners huddled in one corner of the large hangar – under strict guard by combat droid and a marine platoon. They all wore identical prisoner garb – bright yellow long sleeved shirts and pants that made sure they would stick like sore thumbs. So far the prisoners were had been left alone barring a mandatory medical examination and vaccination. Their gear was spread on folding tables nearby and under examination by Intelligence operatives, one of the marine armourers and a handful of engineers.

"Captain on deck!" A fully armoured marine shouted making everyone but the guards jump, stand at attention and salute.

"At ease. What do we have here?" Piett asked. He didn't need to ask aloud why the prisoners weren't secured in cells within the closest detention block – his glare at the spooks on his deck was more than enough, he thought.

"Mercenaries. The jury is still out on if we should try and subvert them or simply interrogate and dump them in prison." A middle aged Major answered. He had a face and bearing that were utterly forgettable, his insignia placing him as a part of Imperial Security, the Empire's internal security service. Nearby stood his counterpart from Imperial Intelligence – who dealt with external threats. Rumour had it that General Veil had a hand in establishing those agencies and making sure that they would cooperate as a matter of course instead of trying to stab each other in the back in a race for prestige and more funding.

So far it appeared to even work, though that might just be Veil's existence and the promise of violence if someone let petty rivalry get in the way of getting the job done. The General had no patience for fools or glory hounds, something Piett couldn't help but respect.

"Anything of note?" The Captain asked.

"Their gear isn't half bad for a world at their presumed tech level, though there are a few surprises." Answered the Armourer. He was an older NCO with a face scarred by splashed molten metal. "There's nothing remarkable about their small arms – decent enough slug-throwers but nothing to write home about. Give them better ammunition and heavier barrels and they might be a threat for the old Phase One and Two Clone Armour with sustained fire. Primitive less lethal equipment too – electricity based stunners, tear gas grenades, which are exactly what it says on the tin, the works. The only really interesting thing are these attachments."

The NCO picked up a cylinder that looked like would be a perfect fit under the barrel of the rifles, and showed it to the Captain.

"Laser attachment. We tested the weapons, they don't work." He stated with a frown. "The prisoners claim that they have tested these at their base's firing range and they worked there. None of them do work when we tried them. I'm not sure if they're lying or not, though it didn't seem that way. What's odd, is that when we took a few apart it became obvious that they were sabotaged. Each one had some faulty or missing component. I've ordered the parts I need from the armoury and intent to fix these toys so we can test them as ourselves – our spook friends insist. This is the first example we have from the so called tinker tech, after all."

"What about the armour?" Piett nodded at a nearby table where his people had laid down said equipment.

"Some very interesting weave, alloys and polymers. Excellent defence against slug-throwers, especially anything in the same class they carried. Good protection against fire, shrapnel and cuts, less than impressive piercing protection with the exception of the solid surfaces. The material science is at least one order of magnitude better compared to everything else they wore. My guess? It was sourced by these tinkers or reverse engineered from their work."

"Do get one of those laser attachments fixed and tested, Sergeant. If you need something we lack on board or can't manufacture in short order, I'll request it. How would their armour handle our weapons?" Piett inquired.

"They might survive a glancing hit. Anything solid would take out an appendage or blow a fist sized hole through their torso. Its great unpowered armour for their tech level but decidedly inferior to most cheap civilian models."

"Good work, carry on." Piett turned his attention back to the Intelligence operatives. They still hadn't explained why he had prisoners on his bloody hangar deck instead of in the cells where they belonged.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Sundari**

**Mandalore**

Late in the evening after meeting the Dark Lord of the Sith, the Undersiders found themselves in a cosy bar. Apparently, Aria knew very well what effect her Master had on people and she made the command decision that teenagers or not, the three currently powerless villains could use a drink or ten.

None of them disagreed with the idea and so the Chiss had lead them to the parlour of a mostly restored building. The place was half full with people – and only about a third of them were humans, the rest – an assortment of familiar and decidedly weird aliens never seen in a SW media. That more than anything else made it sink in for Lisa, this was real, a living, breathing galaxy, not just the distorted image of a science fiction franchise, and what a depressing thought that was. It meant that everything they had experienced over the last few days was very much real, and honestly, the implications terrified her.

The only one really happy was Bitch. Weirdly enough, she had reached understanding with Veil first and was pleased with it. Was it because she finally got it through her thick head who was the top dog on the planet, the whole damn star system if not the whole bloody galaxy?!

At least someone had a reason to be happy, Lisa thought morosely. Oh, the offer the Dark Lord made was damn tempting. The Dark Lord, it took all that was left of Lisa's self-control not to giggle at the very thought. A Dark Lord. Heh.

"Tatts, just so you know, I'm blaming all this on you." Grue pointed at her with a mug of foaming ale that the serving droid recommended. It was Corellian Ale no less and judging by Brian's expression when he first sipped from the tall glass, all the hype about it was if anything, an understatement.

"You're the boss, Grue." Lisa answered brightly, while slowly nursing a tall, cold glass of wine. From _Alderaan_, which was still very much not blown up by a Death Star. That though make Lisa think, did Veil have that monstrosity under construction somewhere?

"It was your idea to accept, and here we are, powerless." Grue grumbled and took a long pull from his mug.

"Curiously enough, its not just you three." This came from Aria, who acted as a chaperone and drank only tea. "I just got news about your mercenary friends. They had so called 'tinkertech' laser attachments for their rifles. Apparently none of them work – they were all either sabotaged, from a faulty batch, or there is something strange going on..." Two solid crimson eyes peered at Lisa.

Tattletale rubbed her forehead on reflex. Her head hadn't hurt since yesterday, and she was sure it was in no small part due to some very good drugs. Lisa felt empty without her power, and she sorely missed the answers it fed her, even if it was often frustrating. She glanced at Grue, who was without his helmet and wore sensible, close fitting clothes that blended in with the locals, just like the rest of the Undersiders did. Lisa herself had chosen a form fitting blouse and pants that showed off her figure. The same was true for Grue too, and without her power getting in the way, he looked positively yummy, so it wasn't all bad.

She still missed her power, darn it!

"You think it has something to do with how we lost our powers." Lisa concluded.

"Well, we'll need some more tinkertech to test. Apparently, one of the tests on the captured equipment is to bring it close to the breach and see if it works, which it shouldn't." Aria smirked.

"You expect it to work." Lisa raised both eyebrows at that.

"Just a nagging feeling I share with my Master." The Chiss confirmed.

"That would mean..." Lisa trailed off as she had an epiphany. Suddenly it made sense why tinker tech was at best hell to maintain and almost always needed its creator to do it. There were a few notable exceptions of course, the primary one being Dragon who could reverse engineer other peoples' works… Or figure out how to fill in missing pieces.

"Your world might soon become even more interesting than we suspected." Aria added.

Lisa blanched. That most certainly wasn't going to be a good thing.

"But that's neither here nor there, nor something you should worry about. Its beyond our pay-grade." Aria shrugged. "Now, what are your thoughts on my Master's offer?"

"That we can't possibly refuse?" Grue grumbled.

"Oh, you do have a choice." Aria smiled brightly.

"Uh-huh." Lisa nodded.

Rachel paid none of them any attention, she was too busy browsing through a data-pad that contained possible locations for her future home and dog preserve. Bitch was also eager to see what her power might do with an alien dog – a krath-hound it was called, something that they would be testing tomorrow, along with checking if their powers would return when they got back close to the breach.

"You've misjudged my Master, me thinks. He isn't going to kill or torture you for the hell of it." Aria gave Lisa and exasperated look, which the powerless thinker answered with a deadpan stare.

"You're Sith." Lisa said with a meaning.

"Yeah. However, we aren't those crazy maniacs Republic and Jedi propaganda paints us as."

Lisa simply stared at the Chiss and didn't even try to hide the disbelief that crept all over her face.

"It's true, however I must admit that there were a lot of those in the past. Like close to four thousand years ago. My Master spent a decade hunting such madmen during his early service to the Sith Empire." Aria offered another one of her pleasant smiles.

Lisa's mind ground to a halt – a depressingly common occurrence lately. Did she just imply that the man who they had met early that day was thousands of years old?! Surely that was impossible even for a Sith?!

"I can see the question painted on your face plain as a day, child. Yes, my Master, the same one we met earlier, fought for the Sith Empire three thousand and six hundred years ago." Aria explained as if she was making small talk about the weather.

Hehehe… Manic grin appeared on Lisa's face. _Choice. _Right, my bony ass. _We're so fucked it's not even funny… _"I need something stronger." Lisa declared. "Much stronger."

"Knock yourself out." Aria shrugged. "Literally if you so desire, I know you need it."

Brian only moaned as he buried his face in his stein and drained the remaining ale in one go.

It was near afternoon next day that the Undersiders recovered from their murderous hangover, in no small part because apparently the Mandalorians had a very effective cure for it. It was shortly thereafter, that they accepted the Sith's deal. Even if Aria kept telling them that they had a choice, Lisa and Brian knew better. The only thing they weren't sure about was if they appreciated the lack of overt threats, or hated Aria for her obvious lies.


	5. Chapter 3 Parts 1&2

**AN: This part was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Detention block B**

**Mandalorian cruiser _Vengeance_**

**High Orbit above Mandalore**

Sergeant Michael Collins had seen a lot of shit in his time in the army, even more after he mustered out due to cuts and had to become a mercenary, after finding out that he was no longer suited for civilian life. The lack of well paying civie jobs for his particular skills didn't help either. Nevertheless, the last few days had been simply surreal.

Practically everyone nowadays knew that alternative dimensions existed thanks to that tinker, Haywire was it? The one who made a portal to Aleph, which was still more or less open. There had been a lot of speculation, especially in the military, about other such portals being opened by tinkers on Bet of from the other side. However, no one suggested, unless if it was a joke, that a portal might open to a fictional world.

Well, now the joke was on everyone. Michael has been a Star Wars fan ever since he was a kid. In a sense, what happened to him and his colleagues was a dream come true. Then he had some time to think about their situation, the fact that they were on board of an honest to God Star Destroyer and had dead eyed intelligence operatives discussing what to do with them, sunk in.

They were fucked, without any apparent way to escape. In theory, the way their captors handled them initially should have offered the mercenaries and opportunity to escape. Once they awoke, to a large group of armed and armoured soldiers standing guard near them, they were ordered at gunpoint to exchange their armours for bright yellow prison garb. Someone had already frisked them and removed any and all weapons they carried. What followed was rather unpleasant – a medical examination by various droids complete with what was either vaccinations, truth drugs or both. Considering that no one really asked them any question, it was probably the former.

What followed should have been their best bet to got away, yet in truth was anything but. For hours upon hours someone had the great idea to keep them together in one corner of a hangar with their gear spread on tables nearby. However, there were a few issues with getting away – first, they were guarded by a platoon of power armour clad soldiers with big fucking guns. Second, there were also wicked looking droids, and not those flimsy B1s portrayed as bumbling idiots in the movies. Third, well none of them knew the language, nor did they knew how to fly any of the multiple spacecraft parked in the hangar. Speaking of said hangar, they could see an unfamiliar planet through the entrance open to space, and obviously protected by a force field.

The really weird thing was that no one has came to question them even if there were obvious intelligence officers around speaking with engineers called to examine their gear. Unfortunately, that state of affairs didn't last. When the soldiers escorted them to a prison block, all of them expected to be met by the infamous interrogation droids, and cold bloodied bastards with a lot of questions.

Instead, they were left in their cells, offered food, the local equivalent of MREs, which were admittedly quite good, and left to their own devices until the morning, when twice their number of solders brought them all to a briefing room, one that wasn't radically different from many Collins, and his colleagues had seen during their careers with the military.

A Chiss woman clad in dark power armour was there to greet them. "Ladies and gentlemen, my superiors has reached a conclusion regarding your final disposition." She spoke in a flat, mechanical sounding English – though some kind of translator, obviously. "I'm here to make you an offer you shouldn't refuse. I understand that at least some of you, are familiar with the fiction known on Earth Bet as 'Star Wars'. Allow me to introduce myself – I am Aria Veil and I serve my Master, Darth Veil, and through him the Mandalorian Freehold, as well as the Federated Galactic Empire. Many of the 'facts' you know about our universe are either distorted, or outright wrong. Others are curiously on target." The woman smiled at them, and the temperature in the room instantly sunk, like a rock through soap suds.

The Empire, no matter if it was federated or whatever, a fucking Sith, yeah, they were all boned. The only questions were, how hard, and if they would give them the courtesy of lube.

"My superiors have an exclusive, one time offer for you, ladies and gentlemen. You serve us as your new employers, and we will take care of you as we take care of our own. You refuse," The blue woman smirked and a familiar whining sound came from the door. Twelve heads snapped to the left to see a very recognizable black, spherical droid simply floating at the entrance.

Fucking Sith! For that matter, fuck Coil for landing them in this mess.

Obviously, no one was dumb enough to refuse, and get tortured for their trouble. They all returned to their cells, and were interviewed by Imperial Intelligence. One by one, they all sang as required, no need to call in the droids that ominously floated near the interrogation rooms.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Hangar**

**Mandalorian scout frigate _Nemesis_**

Lisa's power returned, bringing back both relief and pain. One heartbeat she felt normal, then a flash-bang detonated in her head, bringing her to her knees as the frigate approached a freshly opened dimensional breach. Sounds, colours, smells – Lisa experienced everything as if all her senses and nerves were massively enhanced, then, as suddenly as it had struck her, the onslaught of sensations ceased. She felt a touch on her exposed neck, and cool painkillers raced throughout her veins. The drug cocktail took the edge of the monstrous headache her power greet her with, and helped Lisa settle back into being herself.

A dusk skinned human medic gently helped her to her feet, and once up, Tattletale dared glance at her teammates. Whatever happened, obviously hadn't struck them as hard, or at all – Grue stood tall and firm, surrounded by his darkness – he was experimenting with it, making it flood around him in short, controlled bursts.

Bitch, well… Lisa's mouth hung open when she saw the towering monstrosity standing above them all. The so called krath-hound was a vicious looking beast, even when it was just a ball of teeth and needle sharp horns that was just tall enough to come above her waist. The armoured monster that looked curiously around the hangar was much, much worse. Thick armoured plates locked into a kind of protective carapace, its horns had grown proportionally, and looked large and sharp enough to gut a tank, and the teeth, oh God, the teeth and its evil glowing eyes… This thing fit Bitch's PR name, it was the very image of a vicious hell-hound!

"Just one more test and we're done for now. Clear the firing lane, we're about to testing experimental weaponry!" An engineer shouted, gathering everyone's attention. He had a blaster rifle with one of the tinkertech lasers attached under the barrel. He warned them all twice more, before pointing the gun at the hangar's exit, which was open to space.

He pressed the trigger and to Tattletale's utter lack of surprise, a barely visible ray of blue light lanced out, and didn't that have all kinds of interesting implications that her power hurried to supply…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**29 December 2010**

**Brockton Bay **

Returning home was a bittersweet event for the Undersiders. On one hand, the odds of them being tortured by the Sith significantly decreased, for the time being anyway. On the other hand, now Lisa had to worry about Coil getting his grubby hands on her and doing all kinds of unspeakable things to her, and her power was quick to supply her with a very ugly picture.

At least, she had the promise of being retrieved ASAP if they fucked up and she got kidnapped, avenged too. It was a cold comfort that in that case, Coil was liable to die screaming, if he was lucky.

Well, it wasn't like Lisa had much of a choice. Besides, taking down Coil was on the big "to do" list, once they had more information about him and the time was right for best PR impact. Speaking of PR, that was one of Tattletale's first jobs.

While a whole platoon of soldiers clad in power armour used their enhanced strength to unload cargo shuttles in their temporarily base – another abandoned warehouse, which was just such a cliché, Lisa had her own task. She was to help arrange a secure connection to the Internet, figure out what has been happening over the past few days and then, help refine the first contact plans. Ideally, they would have used advanced SW hardware, however due to compatibility issues, that would have to wait until the engineer contingent finished setting up the base and got their hands on some computers and software to tear apart. Until then, the tech from Lisa's new employers could be used to intercept transmissions or jam them, but not really browse the net.

Why couldn't things be simple? Well, if there was really an appropriate tinker at hand they might have been, which was another thing on her to do list – recruit tinkers, or in at least one notable case, secure and ship them to Mandalore. Squealer of the Merchants was in for a rude awakening the next time the Merchants acted up. Lisa sighed at that though, wondering how did she get herself in such a position.

Ah, right. Fucking Sith.

"I do have couple of contacts who can set us up with internet, no questions asked. In theory anyway. In practice, doing so will sooner or later compromise this place." Lisa explained to Aria who stood nearby overseeing the engineers and soldiers setting up the base.

"That's why I'm here with all the guns." The Sith responded glibly. As if she needed weapons…

"Whatever. I'll make the calls." Lisa relented. "Once we've exchanged some of the precious metals and gems we brought with us, we'll have decent capital to operate with. Again, doing this will be traced to us sooner or later, sooner considering the waves your Master wants us to make."

"We don't intend to play incognito for long. This," Aria waved at the warehouse, "is a temporarily base. We'll set up a permanent one at a better location later, probably once we're in contact with your government and can purchase one, preferably outside of the city's limits."

Where they could set up heavy defences without worrying about collateral damage and thus fucking up relations. Lisa had seen those plans, once that future base was operational, it would be safe from anything but an Endbringer, the Triumvirate, or a full out military assault with a heavy cape support. If she had to be honest to herself, in most of those cases, Lisa would have to bet on the Sith, even if they declined to bring in orbital support. She had to somehow keep the situation from escalating, before the increasingly grim pictures her power painted, in a case of a major fuck up could become a reality.

Speaking of fuck ups, the darn plan basically incorporated one. For some arcane reason, Veil, the Dark Lord himself, who had no issue burning entire worlds to ash and glass, had a hate-boner for slavery. Not that it stopped him from giving no choice to the Undersiders and recruiting them, Lisa thought bitterly… What that meant for her in particular, and the Mandalorian contingent on Earth in general, was that there were a serial suicide-bomber, and a murderous rage dragon in their future. Perhaps she should have omitted the fact that ABB was heavily involved in sex slavery? On the other hand, if she had been less lucky, she might have ended up as one of their victims, so fuck them with a lightsaber.

Fuck the Sith too… Lisa glanced at Aria who was now looking at her with an amused expression on her face. Or better not, because the Sith would fuck you right back, twice as hard.

Tattletale sighed. It was time to make the calls, exchange some precious metals and make sure the Sith's crazy plan didn't backfire too spectacularly.

* * *

**=MK=**

**30 December 2010**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

Lisa was still trying to figure out how she ended up out in the cold fog yet again. Oh, yeah. She volunteered to join the patrol, so they didn't fuck up too badly. She just had to open her mouth in front of the Chiss while she gave the briefing back at the base, and point out how people might misinterpret a squad of power armoured soldiers roughing up the neighbourhood, even if it was the decaying part of the docks besides the boat graveyard. Aria promptly volunteered Lisa to go out and stretch her legs.

Damn it, she should have just kept her damn mouth shut. At least her new new employers provided new toys. Outwardly, she wore a purple bodysuit that looked identical to her old one. But looks could be deceiving. While not powered, the synth-weave it was made of kept her warm and comfortable, despite the winter chill. It was rated to stop even high calibre bullets by spreading the impact over its entire surface area, it had high slashing and piercing resistance, and it wouldn't burn, which was very nice considering that they had pissing off a rage dragon on their agenda.

Even her mask had been upgraded – Lisa was sure that Armsmaster would be ready to eat his halberd in envy when he saw her. It appeared to be a strip of cloth that hid the upper part of her face, it was made of the same weave as the rest of her suit and it had an active HUD, and encrypted comm suite built in.

"Are you all right, little lady?" Asked the squad leader, Nico. He was a Clone trooper turned mercenary – an experienced, solid and reliable sort, yet while he was sure of his ability, gear, and soldiers, he lacked the arrogance that one might expect from someone in his position. After all, the Mandalorians had access to advanced tech that put them at least, on even footing with most capes in the city.

"I'm out in the fog, freezing my ass off, and babysitting you so you don't start a war or something." Lisa grumbled.

"And here we were thinking it was the other way around." The only female in the squad snickered. Her name was Sylvia Yomaget, she was the youngest member of their small patrol, with only Lisa being younger, obviously. The Corporal was also a distant cousin of the Undersiders boss – at least the one on paper, Mandal Motors' CEO Horus Yomaget.

Aria Veil's presence, of course meant that in reality it was the Sith and Mandalore himself, who were in charge of the whole sordid affair.

"The overall plan has merit. We act as like what we are – mercenaries out to make good first impression, and demonstrate what we have to offer. Once we've got peoples attention, and we've begin to establish our good name, and some goodwill with the locals, it will become a bit easier to swallow, where we're from and who we work for."

"That's deep, sarge."

"Some people, actually pay attention to the briefings, and this was certainly need to know." Nico shrugged, which was impressive considering he wore a medium suit of power armour. "We've been here for half an hour, and this is supposed to be the bad part of town, in one of the most messed up cities on the plaent." The NCO turned his helmet so his T-shaped visor pointed at Lisa. "Are you using your power to lead us _away_ from trouble, young lady?"

"Its winter, the middle of the night, and fucking cold. Most people around here don't have the benefit of our nice and warm outfits." Lisa grumbled. "The only reason I'm out here with you, is because I couldn't keep my big mouth shut. There's no way we'll run into anything interesting..." Lisa trailed off when all Mandalorians groaned as one.

"You just had to say it, didn't you, kid." Sylvia sighed. "Didn't you end up meeting our recon team in a night just like this one?"

"That's different! We were out, looking for a tinker, who turned out to be you people!" Tattletale shot back.

"So, no one will be looking for other pieces of our tech, like the lost scout droid? Or perhaps where you kids, and the mercs following you vanished to?"

Lisa opened her mouth to interject, then closed it with an audible snap. _Hello, power? Any tips on this one? _Because as busy as she was with planning and worrying about the Sith, she should have thought about this, damn it! Lisa looked warily at the mist surrounding them. Well, through it – her mask did have an additional vision mode or two, though nothing as good as a proper helmet could offer. She suddenly felt naked and wondered why she didn't take up her new bosses on the offer of a proper armour. Oh, yeah. If she was armoured up like Armsmaster, people would actually try to hurt her if she found herself in a fight.

"For the record, I don't like this plan. Not at all." Lisa eventually said.

"I hear you, sister. It's not for us to ask, its to do and kill the enemy." Sylvia quoted something that obviously didn't translate very well at the end.

"We're not killing anyone tonight!" Lisa snapped. This was why she was out here, freezing her ass off! If left to their own devices, these bloody Mandalorians were sure to start world war three by accident! Maybe even on purpose!

They reached the end of the empty street in silence, the boat graveyard stretching in front of them and turned left, circling back towards the city proper.

"Contact front, two hundred meters." The Sergeant subvocalized.

Despite the fog and darkness, the Mandalorians could clearly see that one the warehouses at the end of this street wasn't as abandoned as they expected. It took Lisa just couple of seconds of squinting into the distance before groaning. "Its the Merchants. Probably one of their drug safe-houses." She frowned. "The recon droids should have picked it up, surely." Another groan. "Squealer probably did something to hide it. They might have one of her monster vehicles in there."

"We've got thermal detonators." Nico pointed out.

"Do you have a backpack nuke as well?" Lisa felt like face-palming.

"Control, Scout One, we've got a development out here," The NCO explained the situation. "Please, advise. Scout One, over."


	6. Chapter 3 Parts 3 to 6

**AN: This part was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**30 December 2010**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

"Scout One, Control, scout the target. An Assault Element will move in to assist. Take prisoners if prudent. ETA on Assault One's stealth approach, five minutes. Control, Over." Said the Lieutenant acting as mission control that night.

"Control, Scout One, affirmative." Nico responded. "You heard the lady. Sylvia, I want eyes inside. Tattletale, you're with me, I want you to tell me everything you can tell me about this place..." The NCO began issuing orders.

The Mandalorians activated the stealth features built into their armours, and within seconds Lisa could see only their wake, as they pushed through the fog. She almost jumped when Nico placed a gauntlet clad hand on her shoulder. "The two of us are going for the high ground." He pointed to an abandoned two story building, which was about a hundred meters away from the Merchant's warehouse. "I'm on point, you're behind me. If things go loud, I want you to bunker down, I'll draw their fire if I have to." The Mandalorian explained calmly, as if he didn't just suggest that he would act as a human shield for her if necessary.

Well, he was the one with shielded power armour, still it was a nice gesture.

By the time they got on the top of the building, which Nico achieved by grabbing Lisa bridal style and vaulting to the roof using his repulsorlift unit, the rest of the Mandalorians had reached their positions as well. They had the warehouse surrounded from three sides, and at least two of them had clear firing lines towards its back. Two Merchants posed as guards at the front, though they were more interested in smoking something, possibly weed if they were somewhat responsible, likely something much stronger, drug addicts were rarely known to exercise good judgement.

Lisa blinked twice, and her HUD zoomed on the gangsters. Merchants all right – dirty, unshaven, gaunt faces, yellow tinted skin… The only threat those two represented was to themselves. The real question was what the Merchants were guarding in the warehouse, how did they hide it from the spread of stealthy drones covering the Mandalorian base and its surrounding area. Lisa was positive that this area had received more that a few sensor sweeps, so it wasn't a human error. Or an alien one – there were a few near human aliens with the Mandalorian contingent back at the base after all.

"Scout One, Scout Three." Sylvia subvocalized over the patrols' net. "I'm in position. Launching drones now."

Lisa could imagine it, the Corporal opening a small container and six spheres floating out – said drones were supposed to be expendable, and very short ranged, at least against modern, for the Mandalorians, counter-measures. It was anyone's guess how they would perform against tinkertech on Earth Bet.

"Tattletale, Scout Three, drones nominal, patching you into the feed." Sylvia added.

A heartbeat later, six transparent widows obscured most of Lisa's vision. The feed was fuzzy and laden with static. The same could be said about Sylvia's transmission. The drones cloaked and silently floated towards the warehouse, seeking a way in.

"Scout One, Scout Two. I'm making at least ten moving targets on thermal. An even dozen sleeping targets in three rooms near the back, and an a large APC sized thermal signature near the centre of the warehouse. Be advised, I couldn't get any clear reading, thermal or otherwise until I got within ten metres of the wall. There's some kind of stealth field scrambling electronic surveillance in effect." The voice was accompanied by the hissing of static as the comm units fought to burn through whatever Squealer had cooked up to keep this place off the radar.

"Scout Two, Scout One, I concur. All I can see from my position are the two guards outside – with Mark One eyeballs. Thermal shows a cold warehouse." Nico confirmed, and informed command of this complication.

That was weird – Lisa could clearly see them with the electronic zoom in option on her HUD. Tinker bullshit, she concluded.

"Scout One, Control, be advised, if asset Squealer is on the premise, retrieve her undamaged if practical. Merchant Parahumans are secondary targets – lethal force is authorized if you deem it necessary, however do try to take them alive if at all possible. Assault One, eta your position, two mikes. Control Over." The LT explained the ROEs for the coming engagement.

Lisa twitched as she heard the matter of fact orders. This… she knew, intellectually, that the Mandalorians and their Sith buddies played by very different rules, however only now, when she was about to assist them in hitting the Merchants, did it really begin to sink in, just what she had gotten herself entangled with.

Unwritten rules? These people didn't give a damn about them, though officially they might pay them lip service in the future, if it suited their purposes anyway. Lisa grimaced and tried to put those thoughts away. It wasn't like she dared cross her new employers, and even if she was crazy enough to try… it wouldn't be over the damn Merchants, or the fucking ABB. When all was said and done, she _might_ reach a sticky end working for the Sith. If either the Merchants or ABB ever got their hands on her, well, she was likely better off dead for sure, because thanks to her power she knew exactly what would happen to her in such a case.

At least the Sith weren't likely to have her raped repeatedly, and used as a sex slave, they might just torture her to death if she betrayed them, which she had no intention of doing. After all, a retirement on a nice safe world with no Endbringers, Slaughter House Nine, or others of their ilk did sound like a very nice consolation price, one that would do a lot to soothe her conscience.

The only warning Lisa got about the Assault Element's arrival, was a sudden brush of displaced air washing over her. "Report." Aria's quiet voice came from an empty spot on the roof beside Tattletale, one that her power was absolutely convinced, was empty air, and so boring it was below notice. Suddenly, Lisa's fear of the Sith jumped up a notch, something she was sure was no longer possible, considering they were already on the top of her 'do not fuck up with' list. Great, now she knew that if she fucked up by the numbers, she wouldn't even see them coming.

Nico did as instructed.

"We're still waiting for the drones to find a way in. For a supposedly abandoned building it sure lacks any holes or cracks for them to slip through." Lisa added. She was sure Aria was looking at the warehouse, probably examining it through the Force. She almost felt sorry for the Merchants, … almost.

"Scout One, Scout Three. I've found a breach, sending in the drones. Over." Sylvia reported.

It took several uneasy minutes before the first two small balls could reach the hole – a broken, and not very well boarded up ventilation shaft for an AC unit that was no longer there. The drones silently floated in, barely slipping through a small hole in the wall, and soon they got a picture from the inside – transmitted first to Sylvia and then retransmitted to the rest of the mercenaries. The images were continued to be fuzzy and covered with static, however whatever kept the warehouse protected couldn't properly jamm the transmission.

The Merchants had been busy with this building – obviously. It was unexpectedly clean, there were workbenches and rafters with tools and all kinds of scrap lining one wall, with the opposite side taken by various barrels and crates, either full with drugs, or the chemicals needed to make drugs, possibly both. A few Merchants were busy loading parcels from several open crates into backpacks, while another, smaller group sorted through salvage and placed it on the relevant shelves. Three more patrolled through the workshop, with another pair standing guard next to the three rooms full of sleeping people.

However, all those details paled in comparison to the monster truck parked in the middle of the warehouse. It was the demented spawn of a WWII half-track, mated with a technical, and then gone on to hate-fuck with a tank or two for good measure. It had two small turrets in front, one on the engine's hood and the other on top of the driver's compartment. There was an open hatch, and a large calibre machine gun complete with metal shield to cover its gunner at the back of what had to be the troops and cargo compartment.

"Okay..." Lisa began, allowing her power to go wild. "This is one of Squealers workshops. She appears to have more than one, or so my power tells me. This isn't the primary one, or at least not any more. Obviously, that thing in the middle is what kept us from noticing this place on the sensors. I'm not sure what weapons are in the turrets." Lisa spoke rapidly. "See those hatches on the sides? They're for more weapons, possibly missiles. The barrels are likely volatile, try not to shoot them. I'm not sure if those sentries in the back are merely keeping an eye on their own people or if they have prisoners in there, who the Merchants are busy addicting to their shit..." Tattletale explained.

"This is an opportunity then. Stealth insertion, try to take them alive and unaware. Watch your fire. I want the heavy weapons section covering that demented APC the moment we breach. If its weapons even twitch our way, I want it slagged." Aria issued her orders. "Lisa, you're staying here with the Sergeant. If you have any insight while we're breaching, speak up immediately. Just so we're clear, I won't engage unless necessary. I want to see how our gear stacks against the locals, especially if they have capes on site." With those parting words, the Sith left.

Lisa knew Aria was gone only because her power ceased to consider that spot on the roof utterly uninteresting and below notice… It was unfortunate that she had to be aware that something was already wrong for her damn power to give her that even that much.

First to go were the two high as a kite "guards" stationed at the front door. Hell, the odds were good that they weren't really sentries, just a pair of Merchants out for a smoke away from the chemicals. According to Lisa's power it was an even toss up between the two options.

A pair of cloaked Mandalorians simply walked up to those two and struck them with armoured fists to the temples. Before the bodies could crumple, the soldiers caught them and put them down quietly, even as the rest of the mercenaries stacked in to breach.

The front and back door opened, and that was enough to get the attention of a few Merchants. They called for their buddies, and only one of them had enough wits left to be alarmed, when apparently no one entered much less answered.

"Get ready, there might..." That was as far as the Merchant got before the Mandalorians went loud. Blue stun bolts came from invisible attackers, and the gangsters fell one after another. Not a single one of them managed to even cry out for help, much less go for a weapon.

"Well, this was easy..." Lisa muttered in relief – no one got to die tonight. Just as she finished thinking said thought, the monster truck came alive.

"Armour! Take it out!" Multiple Mandalorians shouted in the combat net as they opened fire.

"Bastards!" A female shriek came from within the truck. Its turrets swung left and right searching for targets, and the hatches on the sides popped open revealing racks with small missiles. "Die, cocksuckers! I'll teach you to come here..." Squealer, for who else it might be, continued to curse everyone and everything.

Blasters racked the half-track, and the vehicle blindly returned fire. The red bolts of plasma scored deep gorges into the armour, though it held up to them rather well. A large green beam struck the truck just bellow its front turret, which was set up on its hood. The beam cut deep through its base and under it, straight into the engine compartment, just as the vehicle tried to start up. The engine died with a spluttering cough, yet the vehicle didn't die quietly, far from it. Missiles flew across the warehouse, the heavy machine gun at the back opened up, even if it lacked a gunner, and the second, still intact turret shot something that distorted the air with its passage, yet it remained otherwise invisible. Sonic weapon, or something worse? Lisa's power needed more data to be sure.

Tattletale didn't know if it was a bad luck or design, however that blast came just as a cloaked Mandalorian launched a missile at the truck. It struck the flying rocket and detonated it mid-flight. The explosion shook the whole warehouse a moment before Squealers own missiles blew out its whole front side. Lisa saw at least one Mandalorian go down caught by overlapping shock-waves, which were more than enough to destabilize the stealth fields of the soldiers in front of the kludged together tank.

Heavy slugs rained upon the Mandalorian with the missile launcher, who let go of the weapon to reach a huge blaster rifle magnetically attached to his back. The bullets sparked off his armour leaving long streaks of lead in their wake, then the shield unit engaged and for a few precious moments halted the onslaught in its tracks. The other heavy trooper aimed at the second turret and sliced it wide open with another laser blast just as it shot at him. The distortion hit him head-on, popped up his shield, and sent him skidding over the cratered floor until he stopped at the ruins of the front wall, where he remained lying in a heap.

Concentrated fire silenced the machine gun, more blaster shots blew apart the missile racks, melted the front wheels and ruined the tracks at the back of the vehicles.

"Surrender, or we'll drag you out of this tin-can!" Aria's voice sliced through the distinctive sounds of blaster fire – the soldiers were taking no chances and continued to shoot at Squealer's offence against good engineering. They were obviously determined to melt any weapon ports that might hide under the armour long before their contents could pop out and return fire.

"Fuck you, cunt!" The tinker screamed. "My baby! You ruined my baby! I'll kill you all!" Squealer continued to rave.

"Cease fire, check on the wounded. I'll dig her out. Status on the people in the back?" Aria snapped. She materialized within a grey cloud of smoke, right on top of the vehicle, ignited blood red lightsaber in hand. Without wasting any time she went to work cutting through the roof.

"Five prisoners, eleven civilians who need medical attention. They've been drugged, and abused." Came the angry reply.

"I see." Aria's voice came out in as a furious hiss.

Well, there goes the neighbourhood, Lisa groaned. Who would have thought that a Sith gave a damn about random civilians?!

"Tattletale, call in the local law enforcement and medics. We aren't exactly set up to treat this many people drugged up on the Merchant's shab."

Whatever device within the vehicles kept the place more or less secure from electronic surveillance finally broke. Not only did the comms cleared up, but the feed from the drones became crystal clear as well. That in turn gave Tattletale a great view of Aria cutting through the roof of the monster truck, waving a hand, thus pulling out and throwing away a metal circle with a glowing edge. A moment later, she had Squealer caught in a telekinetic grip and pulled her out of the tin-can, as promised.

The Merchant tinker didn't look like much – she was tall and thin, in obvious need of a bath or ten, and a very long period of detox. She wore dirty pants and short sleeved blouse, which showed off her arms – which were a mess of bulging veins and needle scars.

"Pathetic." Aria growled after she examined her captive. "Secure her for transport." She deposited Squealer on the ground not too gently, and gracefully jumped off the truck to land near the back of the warehouse – and somehow didn't plant her head through the ceiling, which wasn't particularly high up in the first place.

"So much for keeping a low profile for any amount of time..." Tattletale grumbled. She took out a burner phone and pressed the power button. Now things were about to become really complicated, fast.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**30 December 2010**

**Brockton Bay**

Once upon a time, Velocity used to like winters. Especially, early in the morning, after the first snow fell, covering everything with a clean, white blanket. In fact, that was something he still liked, a lot, despite the bittersweet feelings it created these days.

It was all because of his power. The breaker state that allowed him to move like a lighting, without tearing himself apart. Said state kept him safe from a lot of things, his power made him practically immune to melee attacks while running, he could dodge bullets and energy blasts, he wouldn't freeze or suffocate.

A great list of benefits, right? Well, like with most powers, his came with a few nasty surprises. When he ran, the world almost stood still, yet he experienced everything at a normal pace. Running around the city for a few minutes in real time, it felt like an eternity to him. Doing it during most seasons, well it was more or less bearable, often with an emphasis on less. During the winter, however? It was true that Velocity didn't freeze, he couldn't catch a cold or worse in his breaker state.

It was still bloody cold, and he felt every damned moment of it. The chilling fog typical for the Bay only made things worse. As if that wasn't bad enough, for a week now the whole Protectorate was at a high alert, ever since something happened to every precog thinker all across the world, an event that apparently, affected even those who didn't collapse clutching their heads, screaming in pain.

For seven days now, small deviations happened even in the best precog predictions, deviations, which couldn't be explained by anyone's actions to either ensure, or prevent a possible outcome. The members of Watchdog in particular were fit to be tied. They were the Protectorate's sister agency, made exclusively of tinkers and thinkers, who publicly acted to keep the economy going in the face of their villainous counterparts. However, Watchdog had a second function – they were the Protectorate's internal affairs division tasked with rooting out rotten apples and infiltrators, a critical task, which was now potentially compromised as well.

The most popular theory was a Simurgh plot, and that had everyone on edge, more often than not, out in strength, waiting for the other shoe to drop, while the thinkers ran in circles like chickens with their heads cut off. That was the reason why Velocity was out in the cold, making regular rounds across areas that the Protectorate ENE usually avoided, feeling as if he was slowly turning into a pop-sickle.

"Velocity," Aegis' voice came from Robin's headset, which was carefully hidden under the head piece of his costume. "We just got a call about a Parahuman incident." The Ward explained. "Tattletale, a young woman who identified herself as a rogue, a member of an independent team, the Undersiders, called it in. A second, previously unknown group, the Mandalorian Knights," fanboys, Velocity thought derisively, just great, "...hit a Merchant safe-house a few minutes ago. Tattletale reported an encounter with Squealer and one of her 'vehicles' that resulted in multiple casualties among the unpowered Merchants..."

"Console, give me the address and then continue to fill me in." Velocity interrupted. Aegis was a good kid, however he had a tendency to fixate on not necessary important details during a crisis, a habit that the more experienced members of the Protectorate in the Bay were gently trying to break him from.

"Sorry, Velocity." Came the sheepish response, followed by the address, and directions. As far as Robin could recall, that was one of the many abandoned warehouses at the docks, near the ship graveyard. Velocity headed that way, slowly at first so he could be briefed on the situation before accelerating to full speed. "Like I said, Tattletale reported multiple injuries, as well as rescued kidnappees, who the Merchant were busy hooking on their poison. Armsmaster and Miss Militia are on the way, ETA eight and twenty minutes, respectively. Two PRT vans are on the way, fifteen minutes for them. It's likely that police and ambulances can be there faster..."

"However, I'll need to scout and confirm that there's no active danger before they can approach. Roger, that. I'm moving in and will call when on site before approaching myself." Robin said and _ran. _The world around him slowed down to a crawl, the ever present fog torn by his wake, leaving behind a short lived red streak marking his passage.

To an outside observer, Velocity's run would have lasted for scarcely a few minutes. Robin experienced two hours of all out sprint that didn't even leave him breathing heavily.

When he approached the crime scene, it immediately became obvious where it was – a pillar of smoke and dust mixed with the fog, and one warehouse had its whole front shredded as if Hookwolf had passed through it, multiple times. When he stopped, he could clearly hear approaching sirens in the distance, the familiar shrill whine of the police and ambulances. At that particular moment he sorely missed the distinct and reassuring sound of the PRT's own sirens.

"Console, Velocity. I have eyes on the crime scene. The place is a mess, I'm seeing the aftermath of a battle. I have eyes on at least five unknowns in heavy duty gear – power armour, heavy weapons. I advise careful approach. Hold first responders back for now."

"Will do. Stay safe." Aegis eagerly interjected.

Velocity displaced in a blur to get a better sight line into the warehouse… and the armoured people tracked the wake of his movement, if slowly and ponderously. His estimate of their gear jumped up a notch.

"Console, Velocity, I have eyes on five more of the unknowns, they're policing casualties and providing first aid. So far all I'm seeing are injured unpowered Merchants, two of these Mandalorian Knights and one of Squealers vehicles, which looks like it has been through a war-zone. There might be more casualties and Knights at the back, possibly the reported civilians are over there as well. Be advised, they can track me. I'll make a slow and friendly approach. I'm leaving the channel open so you can monitor."

"This is Armsmaster, I'm three minutes out. Velocity, be careful." The Protectorate ENE leader cut in.

"I'm not looking for a fight." Robin muttered and slowly approached the warehouse with his hands raised up in an obvious peaceful gesture. "Hi!" He said aloud, doing his best to put as much cheer in his voice as possible. "I'm Velocity with the Protectorate. You called for help?"

"Sergeant Nico, Mandalorian Knights." One of the armoured figures introduced himself. "We were patrolling the area when we stumbled upon these," He moved his helmet in the vague directions where his friends were taking care of the wounded.

On a closer inspection, Star Wars clearly influenced the tinker who designed the armours, especially the helmets with their distinct 'T' shaped visors. The weapons on the other hand, Robin couldn't remember seeing guns this big in the movies.

"What's the ETA on the medics? We've got a bunch of victims drugged to the gills in the back, not to mention this mess." Another nod towards the casualties.

"They're a few minutes out, however before they can come in, I need reassurances that the paramedics will be safe." Velocity explained calmly.

"Well, they better get here, fast. That crazy bitch in the tank didn't care if she caught her own people in the crossfire or not. We had a bunch of them stunned when she opened up..." The Sergeant trailed off and shrugged before nodding to a clump of bricks stained red.

Velocity took a closer look at the destroyed wall and blanched. When it blew up, at least two normal people were in the way. The destroyed bricks and shattered concrete had acted like a giant shotgun. It was no wonder that he failed to notice the mess between the dust, lack of lighting and the fog. The blast had ripped the poor bastards to shreds.

"This is why dealing with villains is better left to the Protectorate and PRT, we're trained to deal with them in as safe a manner as possible." Velocity said, following procedure and testing the waters.

"If you say so." The Sergeant managed to shrug despite the heavy armour he wore.

As they spoke, Velocity carefully examined the visible part of the warehouse. Most light came from torches attached to the power armour worn by the Knights as well as a dozen or so chemical lights spread around – likely their doing as well. The more Robin saw, the more convinced he was that this wasn't just another gang pushing into the city. The mess notwithstanding, the so called Mandalorian Knights acted with practised professionalism. They were trained and experienced, mercenaries most likely, unless he had just stumbled into a black operation gone bad, an unlikely option.

"Who are you people anyway?" Velocity asked.

"The boss lady will answer any such questions, she's coming now." Nico said after tilting his head to the side, obviously listening to a call. So they had an active comm system, obvious in hindsight, though it was always good to have a confirmation.

A woman in black power armour walked from behind the wrecked tank. She had her helmet cradled in the crook of her left arm, clearly demonstrating her status as a Case 53. Her appearance explained these peoples' fascination with Star Wars. She was a dead ringer for a Chiss – dark blue skin, solid crimson eyes, drop dead gorgeous too. She was possibly the tinker responsible for outfitting the group and if that was the case, what Velocity had already seen was more than enough to want her in the Protectorate – both so they could gain access to her expertise, and to keep her tech out of hostile hands.

"Good evening, Velocity." She spoke in pleasant voice that did some very interesting things to his anatomy. "I am Aria Veil." She offered him a respectful half-bow. "I hoped that we would meet under more pleasant circumstances, however needs must..." She spoke using a mix or perfectly normal language and some odd phrasing.

It took Robin uncommonly long time to notice that the movement of her lips didn't match her words, and only then he noticed that her voice in fact came from the helmet in her arms. He wondered, did her transformation damage her vocal cords?

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**30 December 2010**

**Brockton Bay**

Few things let Armsmaster relax, relatively speaking, so he could let his mind drift for a bit and leave his worries behind. For years, what felt like long decades, he's been simply too busy to really rest, and healing after battle doesn't count! There was always something that _needed _to be done, a threat to counter, a contingency to implement, a project to work on. He never had enough time, and despite all his efforts, could never do enough. There was always someone better, more famous, or just plain luckier.

His city, Brockton Bay, continued to slide into decay despite everything he could do, new heroes and villains could often match his best efforts, it was immensely frustrating, and lately it almost felt like too much to handle. Even practically leaving his civilian life as Colin Wails behind, what little there was of it in the first place, and dedicating every waking moment to his career barely let him remain competitive.

Lately, the only reprieve Armsmaster could find was when on a quiet patrol, riding his customised bike, feeling it purr below him as he glided through traffic, or drove over empty streets with the wind flying in his face. More often than not, something happened to deprive him even from those few and far between moments of precious relaxation.

Tonight was no exception.

"Armsmaster, Console..." Aegis acted as the herald of bad news.

Colin revved up the engine of his bike, it roared in approval as he accelerated towards the docks. What was it with this city that drew in more gangs than any other on the East Coast? At least it wasn't the Teeth again, which was a small mercy. The last thing Brockton Bay needed was another visit by the Butcher. Something like that would shatter the delicate balance of power that the PRT and Protectorate carefully maintained in a desperate bid to fend off open warfare.

Keeping the peace meant no rain of swords, no serial suicide bombers, and most importantly, no rage dragon melting the city and dancing in the ashes. The last one was critical, because Armsmaster still didn't have counter-measures for Lung he was ready to test in real life conditions.

Armsmaster listened to Velocity making contact with the interlopers as he raced to the docks, with a sinking feeling in his gut. At least two squads outfitted with power armour, tinker tech weapons too. He was a tinker, he knew exactly how hard was to make such suits, how long it took to build the tools, to build more tools, rinse and repeat, until one of their kind could reach such a stage. This new gang had an experienced and established tinker supplying them, a newcomer to the Bay, possibly to the East Coast.

_Another rival, _a quiet, treacherous voice whispered in the back of his mind. Armsmaster chased that thought away to concentrate on driving and listening. Keep the situation peaceful, de-escalate if necessary, gather information, he told himself as he turned a corner, raced past two ambulances being escorted by the police, and finally saw the crime scene.

It was just as Velocity described, the place was a mess, which offended his sensibilities on principle. Being the miniaturisation tinker meant an almost obsessive attention to detail and neatness, something that greatly reinforced the inclinations he'd had before triggering.

Armsmaster parked just beyond the edge of debris thrown out by the fighting, picked up his halberd from its cradle, feeling a bit better at the familiar weight in his hand. Velocity stood nearby alongside five armoured figures. They were a Case 53 holding a helmet, with the others having theirs on, sensibly hiding their faces. More of these "Knights" milled within the warehouse, providing first aid to the wounded – that did earn them a little bit of credit, though Colin wasn't about to tell them that.

"Armsmaster." Velocity greeted and made redundant introductions.

"Let's not waste time." Armsmaster began. He loathed doing it – the inefficiency ranked him… "Before I can allow the medics in, I need to know who you people are, why you started a battle in my city, and what are your intentions?" He asked bluntly.

"Ah, straight to the point. I like that." The Case 53 offered a dazzling smile. It was immediately obvious that she either spoke through translator or some speech aid device – not only did the voice come from her helmet, bur what she said didn't match how her lips moved, pointing at the former possibility. It might have been both as well.

Armsmaster made a mental note to check the databases for any known capes who had their speech impaired, especially those that didn't speak English well, or at all.

"We're the Mandalorian Knights, a PMC founded as the security arm of its trans-dimensional parent corporation, Mandal Motors." The mercenary's smile didn't waver nor did she show any sign that she was joking. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Master of Arms. I've heard much about you from our local consultants."

At that moment, Colin sorely wished that his lie detector was complete and fully operational, instead of in its infancy. Beside him, Velocity stared flatly at the "Mandalorians", clear disbelief written all over the visible part of his face. Armsmaster swallowed an angry retort of his own, he didn't take lightly people attempting to make a fool out of him. Besides, snapping would be unprofessional. Still, it was very hard not to.

"That's a bold claim." Colin ground out through gritted teeth. "I hope you have a way to back it up."

"A few come to mind." The Case 53 continued unabashed "We do have official documentation, however right now you have no way of authenticating it."

It was hard not to roll his eyes at that. As if anyone would take electronic records provided by an unknown tinker at face value.

"We can establish direct link with the people back home, or perhaps a call to our ship, utilising equipment you can provide and use to trace the signal?" The blue woman suggested.

"Your ship?" Amusement crept in Velocity's voice.

"Yes, we do have a ship on the dark side of the moon." A tiny smirk appeared on the blue woman's face. "We thought it prudent to use shuttles with limited stealth ability to come and go in order to avoid causing any undue panic." She explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Colin wanted to shout that the charade had gone far enough. People were wounded or dead, because of these "Mandalorians", they wouldn't get away by telling tall tales, or because they were crazy cosplayers!

Armsmaster looked away from the Case 53 and examined the other mercenaries more carefully. There were a lot of them, he had to remind himself. They were heavy armed and very likely very well armoured as well. Letting them get to him, much less allowing them to provoke him, might lead to disaster. He grit his teeth so hard that they almost cracked from the pressure, took a few deep breaths, and forced himself to calm down a bit.

"We will take you upon your gracious offer. Will you accompany us to the PRT Building so we can set things up?" Armsmaster grated.

"Set things up and contact AllSeeingEye on PHO with the time and address. That is the account of one of our consultants, Tattletale, she is the one who called you in, on my orders. We'll be there. Once we've relinquished the prisoners taken and kidnapees we've rescued into your custody, we'll pull back to our base of operations, and ensure that we'll have someone high up on the totem pole available to negotiate with you. We're here simply to scout the area, find if there are lucrative jobs to be had, and what trading opportunities might interests our employers back home." Aria Veil patiently explained.

Armsmaster was tempted to decline the offer, try and arrest them all for being a pain in his ass if nothing else. However, he gave one look to the wrecked tank, glanced at the people who did the wrecking, and reminded himself that escalating wasn't in the Protectorate's best interest, on the contrary.

"Fine. Your suggestion is acceptable. We'll contact you through PHO once we have everything set up."

"Splendid!" The Case 53 clapped her hands and beamed at the heroes.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**31 December 2010**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Director Piggot watched the tail end of the recording provided by Armsmaster's helmet camera. The Mandalorian Knights walked out into the mist, vanishing like ghosts, when they activated personal cloaking devices. Thermal vision was no help – the only reason the recording could make out their forms was due to the way they disturbed the thick mist as they left.

"This city..." Emily whispered quietly. Most days, she occasionally regretted not trusting even a single cape enough to heal her kidneys, well, replace them really, so she could finally open the emergency bottle of whiskey she kept at the bottom right drawler of her desk and drain it to the last drop without killing herself, and it was days like today, that she wanted to drain the bottle anyway. Since becoming Director of the PRT's ENE branch, there were too many days when Emily felt she needed a drink or ten just to make it until the evening. The only reason she trooped on was her firm belief that someone else would do even worse if thrown into the rattlesnake pit that was Brockton Bay.

Tagg came to mind – with him as Director, the odds were good that open warfare would level the city within two weeks. Rage Dragons able to go toe to toe with Endbringers tend to have that effect, if provoked.

And now, this brand new insanity landed in her lap as if everything else wasn't enough. Piggot gave Armsmaster a flat, unimpressed look, before glancing at the other heroes sitting around the long table dominating the conference room.

"This is the fifth time this year we got people claiming that they are from another dimension, on the East Coast alone. I've lost count of those proclaiming themselves literal aliens." Armsmaster explained in a defensive tone. "Even I noticed when the last census made the news with nearly a percent of the population claiming Jedi or Sith as their religion." That, had at least been briefly amusing, especially compared to the numbers believing that all Parahumans were either God's own angels or the Devil's demons who had crawled up from the pit to herald the Judgement day, or other similar insanity.

"I concur." Velocity voiced his support.

"Just to be the devils' advocate," Assault snickered, earning himself a long suffered groan from his wife, "What if they're telling the truth, and are honest to God Mandalorians from outer space? With the tinkertech they displayed, they can claim whatever they want, as long as they're friendly, especially if we can convince them to share." The former villain looked at the folder opened on the table in front of him, rummaged for the correct picture, and picked it up once he found it. It displayed an enlarged image of one of the power armoured Knights. He showed her to the director. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't want the troops wearing one of these? Hell, I want one for Battery!" Assault exclaimed.

That last proclamation earned him a flash of a smile from Battery, and a kick in the shin, totally worth it!

"Am I the only one who hopes they're either lying or exaggerating? Because if they were straight with you, it means that they not only have a ship in orbit, a way between said ship and the surface as well, _and_ the Simurgh hasn't gone after them. Yet." Dauntless pointed out.

"This is in fact one of the reasons I'm convinced that the Case 53 either lied to my face or is simply delusional." Armsmaster said.

"Ah. Okay, then." Dauntless leaned back into his chair.

"Fautline is bad enough, but at least her crew is considerate enough not to take contracts in this city and merely run their club." Which was one of the reasons they tolerated the mercenary group. "The last thing we need, is armed to the teeth mercenaries coming here and setting Brockton Bay on fire." Piggot growled. "Do we know what happened to Squealer?"

"All we know for certain is what the Knight claimed – Squealer engaged them, they destroyed her tank, she vanished, possibly using some kind of a teleportation device." Armsmaster explained. "We know she has built vehicles capable of teleportation, its possible she managed to refine a device, either that, or the Merchants have been buying from Toybox, or other rogue tinkers."

The large monitor they watched the recording on blinked, and changed from a paused image of mist shrouded docks, to that of a plain computer generated avatar.

"Sorry for being late, Director." Dragon apologized. "Armsmaster." She nodded at her friend with a brief smile. "It took some doing, and calling a few favours to redirect couple of telescopes, as well as one of my satellites to look at the moon. As far as everyone is concerned, there have been no unknown objects detected entering or exiting the atmosphere." The most famous tinker in the world, briefed them. "Obviously, with assets available, we can't see if there is indeed a ship hiding _behind_ the Moon."

Armsmaster perked up at that declaration. Dragon glanced apologetically at him before forging on. "However, on the off chance that the woman Armsmaster met told the truth as she knew it, we might be unable to detect those people coming or going unless they allow us to."

"Thank you, Dragon. What do you base that assessment on?" Piggot asked.

"I've browsed 'official' and unofficial sources about Star Wars technology. By all accounts it either ranges from not particularly impressive, yet still outclasses almost everything we have by a large margin, to borderline Clarketech, which outclasses everything we have to a ridiculous degree. Logic, and in this case I use the word lightly, dictates that the truth would be somewhere in between those two extremes. One thing many fans, and the people who created Star Wars' technical manuals agree on is that we're talking about galactic civilization, which have been space faring for thousands of years with all that would entail..." Dragon shrugged. "Honestly, Director, all I can do at this point is speculate based on information that is incomplete and highly suspect."

"Thank you anyway. I know that your time is a precious commodity, Dragon." Piggot let out a long suffered sigh. "So we are back to square one. Armsmaster, I'm not saying that you and Velocity met real Mandalorians straight out of a fictional dimension, however you did break protocol. You know that we should at least appear to take such claims seriously until we can investigate, so we could either disprove or confirm them on the odd chances that we have another Haywire situation."

"Just think about it, Armsy, what if that blue bombshell was a Sith?" Assault made a grasping motion complete with clawed fingers on his right hand, followed by an exaggerated display of choking. He only ceased when Battery slapped the back of his head. "All jokes aside, can you tell me that I'm wrong?" He asked in an uncharacteristic sombre tone.

"Does that mean we have to set up equipment to contact a ship that may or may not be in outer space?" Triumph whispered, which thanks to this power came out quite loud anyway.

"Yep." Assault nodded. "We'll need to play it as if they're the real thing until we can disprove it. Considering their gear, we might even have to play along if they're all crazy, because as long as they behave, we will want to remain on their good side, especially if we intend to beg for some of the goodies." He rubbed his chin. "Can we come for the meeting wearing Star Wars costumes? I think I can get my hands of a decent replica of Vader's..." Assault trailed off when he saw the look Battery levelled at him. "On the cheap, I swear!" He hurried to add.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Mandalorian Knights base of operations**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

"Yes, that's right. I want the best replica of Vader's costume you can make ready, and shipped to my address by the end of the next week at the latest. Money is not no object. Yes, I do have the measures ready." Tattletale said into her phone.

Aria stood beside her, a wicked grin plastered all over her face. The Sith held a data-pad displaying Anakin's relevant biometrics, and wasted no time shoving it into the thinker's face.

"Are you sure about this?" She asked. "Sorry, not you, sir. My employer, who had this brainstorm in the first place, won't leave me alone. Yes, I'm ready to dictate the measurements..." After arranging a few more details, Lisa closed the phone and looked at Aria with despair. "I don't want to be Force Choked to death!" She whined.

"Don't worry, we _probably_ won't even be in the same system as Skywalker when my Master hands him this particular gift. However, we're sure to get a copy of the recording and watch the show." The Sith nodded happily. "Speaking about shows, come on, the boys and girls are about to begin watching Episode III. I'm eager to see what your people have done with our history. One and two were more or less decent history flicks, though after watching what passes for tactics in them, I'm glad I missed the early days of the war..." Aria spoke as she dragged Lisa to the R&R lounge, where practically everyone off duty gathered to watch the movie.


	7. Chapter 4 Parts 1&2

**AN: This part was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Royal Palace**

**Sundari**

**Mandalore**

"This brings back memories," Delkatar spoke as he entered the restored hangars. While functional, they still bore the signs of the battle that levelled the surface portion of the palace.

There were only a handful of vehicles present – a pair of shuttles along with a few escorting fighters, part of a squadron currently landed in the two smaller hangars to the side of the larger, primary one.

"Oh, yesss..." Bo-Katan's answer came in a purr. She only had eyes for the two large Basilisk droids standing near the shuttles.

"Well, I did promise, besides it was fortunate that Mandal Motors could get us a pair of the new upgraded models, just in time." Veil chuckled. "Did you think I've forgotten our anniversary, again?"

"There were extenuating circumstances the last two times." Bo shrugged as she skipped - actually _skipped_, like a girl a third her age - towards the Basilisks.

"That didn't stop you from giving me the stink eye either time." Her husband pointed out, with a raised eyebrow.

"It was all worth it. You enjoyed the make up sex as much as I did." Bo called over her shoulder. "Now eyes front and away from my ass. Which one is mine?"

"In my defence, it is a very fine ass, very distracting especially in those form fitting pants..." Veil trailed off.

"Which one?" Bo-Katan demanded, while her eyes drank the forms of the two Basilisks.

She could still remember the night she was married, and her husband's wedding gift, both to her, and all Mandalorian warriors across the galaxy. That night, he gave them back their souls. It was ultimately one of the actions that persuaded the Clans to elect him as their leader.

Bo-Katan also remembered the attack that soon followed, how she almost got herself assassinated when she dispatched one of the Death Watch kill teams, which infiltrated the palace. The only reason she survived that night was her husband, who choose to put down his civilized mask for her sake, and proved that their marriage would be so much more than one of convenience and politics, with a side of nice sex. Said decision nearly brought him to blows with their brother in law, Obi-Wan, then and there.

She would never forget entering the cockpit of her first Basilisk, putting on the neurohelmet, and linking with its machine intelligence. It was an exhilarating, unique experience. The only other thing that came close was feeling Delkatar's mind meld with her own when he used Battle Meditation, in combat and more than a few times for even more _enjoyable_ purposes.

One of Bo-Katan's greatest regrets was that she never got to ride that Basilisk in combat, her Basilisk, It was destroyed when Grievous levelled the surface portion of the palace, and the attack compromised, then collapsed the hangar. She still owed Kenobi one for tracking down that crazy cyborg and putting him out of everyone's misery.

Delkatar brought her out of her reminiscing when he handed her an activation key, and nodded at the Basilisk to the left, even as he pulled out the key for his own machine. While she had piloted Basilisks in battle before, one of them even was a machine she was proud to bond with and befriend, he wasn't hers. Nevertheless she would always regret his sacrifice during the Black Rebellion.

Bo looked at her gift with possessive covetousness before walking up to it, and gently traced the edge of its front right leg with her fingers. She grinned, grabbed her husband and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss, before skipping away and climbing into the cockpit.

"Hello, my new friend." Bo-Katan purred as she put in the activation key, waiting for the Basilisk to come alive around her. She reverently picked up the neurohelmet and put it on, felling the unmistakable sensation of an electronic mind, one still young and not fully formed, touch her own as they melded She imprinted upon it, as its friend and primary operator.

**=MK=**

Nearby, within the cockpit if his own new Basilisk, Veil went through the same process. In his case, he imbued the Force itself not only within the droid's core as its mind fully developed through the meld, but into the war-machine's frame as well. It was rather crude form of alchemy, doing it right would have taken far too long, time he simply couldn't spare as busy as he was. Still, he was happy at a job well done as the Basilisk grew into more that it should have been.

Naturally, the Force decided to throw a spoke in the wheel, because why not. It came in the form of a priority comm call.

"This had better be important." Delkatar kept his voice to a semblance of his normal tone, instead of the angry growl bubbling in his throat.

"Sorry, sir, this is Lieutenant Zev, sir. You've got a high priority message from Project Mirror. You ordered to be informed immediately about any notable developments on that end." Veil's current aide decamp explained stoically.

"Good. Can you forward it to me or do I need to retrieve a physical copy?" Delkatar asked.

The most critical information within the Empire would be delivered that way unless time was of the absolute essence, and a hypernet transmission had to be risked.

"It's not marked as critical, just high priority, sir. I can transmit it to your location if its secure." Zev answered.

"Do so now. Good work, Lieutenant."

The computer built into the left bracer of Delkatar's armoured robes pinged as it received the message. He opened and went over it, after unlocking its security, which only required the relevant password and keyword – the computer already confirming his identity by scanning his biometrics.

"So much about taking it slowly, and building a positive reputation before running into the so called heroes, not to mention the local government." Veil muttered once he was done with the message and had called back his aide. "Zev, get me a priority channel to Coruscant, and call me back once you've got Senator Skywalker on the line." He terminated the call, before making another one, this time to his Finance Minister, and primary point man for Project Mirror. "Horus, I understand we've got some interesting developments and an asset on the way back..."

* * *

**=MK=**

**31 December 2010  
PRT HQ  
Brockton Bay**

When two tinkers of Armsmaster and Dragon's calibre put their minds to something, especially if they didn't need to break in new ground, they could work very fast. Colin offering access to his lab, its waldos, and his painstakingly built fabricators considerably sped up the process. By noon, they had designed a comm system, one that could send a tightbeam transmission to the moon and beyond, without being easy to intercept unless someone literally came between the building and their target. They already had it almost half assembled as well. Hopefully, if there was actually someone up there, they would return the courtesy if at all able to, thus not broadcasting their presence for the whole state to hear.

While pleasant, working with Dragon was far from relaxing for Colin. He had to drive himself to excel more than ever so he wouldn't disappoint her. It was highly rewarding, yet exhausting.

"Come on, spill." A small monitor complete with a camera and loudspeakers, spun to face Colin. It was one of five he had installed in this lab so Dragon would have better access, and points of view when she was present by teleconference. He had the same arrangement in his primary lab out on the Rig, the Protectorate's actual HQ out in the bay.

"We're wasting our time, Dragon!" Armsmaster waved at the table where they were busy assembling the communicator. They already had most parts available, and only needed those that would allow them to trace any incoming transmission within range. Well, almost – the unit would still need some creative programming, something Dragon was already working on at her lair in Canada.

"This might be a simple challenge, but it's still a fun one, Colin. Besides, Assault's right. We can't take the chance that they're for real and ignore them. No matter what the truth is, they do have access to a lot of advanced technology. We need to know where they got it from, and if their source is willing to cut a deal with us, either to build us some units, or if we can purchase a handful, so I could attempt to reverse engineer them." Dragon spoke in a soothing tone.

It was a well made point, one Colin agreed with even. It still grated anyway.

"Let's hope they aren't for real." Armsmaster muttered.

"Actually, that's what we need to discuss. If they lied, well its just another gang, or mercenary group with access to tinkertech. Certainly dangerous, however nothing we haven't seen and dealt with before." Dragon patiently explained.

"Which is still more trouble than Brockton Bay needs." Colin grumbled. "However, if the so called Mandalorians aren't delusional… If that's the case, Dragon, I don't know. What can we do if they're for real?" Colin had to work harder than he would have liked to keep the worry from his voice.

"Hope that they actually told you the whole truth and will be amiable to sell us advanced tech not bound by the usual tinkertech constrains." Dragon answered.

"We'll find out tonight."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**31 December 2010**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

The first clue anyone had that the Mandalorians might not have been bullshitting Velocity and Armsmaster, was the method of their arrival. Arranging the meeting through private messages on PHO was amusing, the best idea anyone who saw that short conversation could come in with was that the mercenaries had either a mover, a helicopter or a tinker sourced flying machine. After all, AllSeeingEye, who was supposed to be the rogue Tattletale, did request a description of the roof of the building after she received the time and place for the meet and greet.

The general consensus among the Protectorate heroes and PRT troopers who heard of it was that the mercs were about to run with their delusion for all that it was worth, which, if anything might at least make for an amusing new year eve – it better, considering this was an all hands on deck exercise for everyone, with the exception of the Wards.

They kept the kids for various reasons. At least one of them was because no one wanted to introduce Clockblocker to the mercenaries, especially after he declared that he had a set of Mandalorian prop armour he wore as a costume this past Halloween, and was determined to wear it today. Piggot explicitly ordered him to go home, and unless called in, not to show up until the first work day of the new year. For all anyone knew, the Mandalorians might take offence if they believed that the Ward wanted to mock them, or, potentially even worse, they might turn out to be birds of a feather.

This whole craziness pointed that way, or so it seemed until a flood of calls swamped PRT's lines. A large, heavily armed flying machine had lifted off from the vicinity of the Docks, and headed towards the centre of the city, flying slowly and ominously.

"You know, we might just owe Assault one. He'll never let us live this one down." Dauntless mused as he waited for their guests on the rooftop. The energetic hero bet them all, that they really had made contact with genuine Mandalorians, not just a group of capes, crazy about everything Star Wars.

Miss Militia stood at parade rest beside him, complete with a small honour guard of fully kitted out PRT troopers – both as a show of respect, and a speed bump if the mercenaries turned out to be hostile, and attempted to storm the building. Considering that they would soon be touching down, in what sounded suspiciously like a heavy assault gunship, Dauntless prayed that their intentions were genuine. He didn't feel like testing his gear against whatever tinkertech weapons might be on the way.

"I'm more concerned about Clockblocker on this one. I expect to see him next week wearing a Stormtrooper props, and singing the Imperial March." Miss Militia said in a light tone. Only two things betrayed that she was nervous – the slight tightening around her eyes and the way her power shifted from one large calibre side arm into the next.

"That certainly sounds like something he'd do." Dauntless nodded, a slight grin under his helmet. "Do you know why we're out here freezing, instead of our glorious leader? Armsmaster's already met them, hasn't he?"

"You just answered your own question." Miss Militia deadpanned. "We might be able to make a proper human being out of him one of these days, though I doubt its going to be anytime soon."

Dauntless thought about the recording of that meeting they all had had watched a dozen or so times in preparation for this evening, and had to nod in agreement.

They heard the approaching aircraft before they saw it, in no small part because the light, yet chilling breeze coming from the sea. It was a quiet whine, that slowly grew louder carrying over the distant sound of traffic, and all the new-years fireworks that people had broken out early, which made it sound like Brockton Bay was more of a war-zone than it usually was.

Soon, the aircraft came into view, revealing a familiar form for those who watched Aleph's Clone Wars cartoon, which was a favourite of Dauntless' niece, who roped him in watching more than a few episodes with her. If he remembered it right, this was an assault shuttle he had seen the Clones use – from the swept, variable wings to the hunchbacked cockpit, which was complete with a pair of laser cannons on each side laying in dual mounted turrets.

"Let us be _very_ polite." Dauntless whispered.

"Agreed." Miss Militia whispered back. Her power shifted into a very big hand-cannon, before she swapped it for a replica of the standard PRT side-arm, which she then holstered. "Look alive people, lets present our best."

The shuttle made a graceful half turn around the PRT building, before turning around and presenting its back to the helicopter landing pad. Its ramp opened with no sound they could hear over the distinct and familiar whine of a Star Wars craft – the sound was straight out of the prequels and for a moment, Dauntless wondered if Lucas, or whoever held the franchise these day might try to sue these mercenaries.

He hoped not. These people had an actual working shuttle, power armour, and judging by the wreck the salvage crews towed from that warehouse, blasters as well.

The ramp slid down to reveal a well lit up interior – there were long rows of seats near each wall of the cargo compartment with the middle being empty. With only three people in the back, the shuttle looked monstrously big – it looked like it could carry a whole platoon with all their gear without breaking any sweat. That, however, was something he noted in passing. The three passengers gathered his attention.

One of them, the obvious leader, was the Chiss look-alike, who might just be an actual alien instead of a Case 53 as everyone had assumed. She wore the same armour she had yesterday, minus the helmet. To her left stood a pretty teenage girl, she was blond, a mischievous smile played across her long face and she wore a form-hugging outfit that was just this side of scandalous.

Last was the only man in the small group. He was another teenager, large, built like a brick and clad in dark coloured armour that had a lot of common with what Dauntless had seen in the prequels worn by the Clones. However, this armour was thicker, more solid looking, more advanced as well, though looks might have been deceiving.

Behind the two heroes, the troopers stood at parade attention, presenting arms.

"Hello." The blue woman greeted with a cheerful wave. Dauntless noted that while her voice seemingly came from the right part of her body, it still didn't match the movement of her lips. In a hindsight, that was another clue that they might be very much out of their depth on this one. The three of them jumped from the ram on the helipad one after another.

"We decided to offer you a show of goodwill and not bring guards. These are Tattletale," The Chiss patted the blond girl on the shoulder, "and Grue," A nod towards the boy. "They are our local consultants and guides."

"I'm Dauntless and this is Miss Militia."

"How do you do?" The heroine offered a shallow nod, and hidden smile to their guests. "If you would follow us inside," She nodded at the elevator's door behind their backs. "The Director is waiting for you. We're set up to contact your ship."

"Splendid. Should I call it now to move out from behind the moon, so you can get a visual confirmation as well? I presume you do have sensors looking for her."

"How long will that take? I think we'd better wait until after you've met the Director." Dauntless interjected.

"Not long at all. The Nemesis is a scout frigate. They need to be swift as a matter of course."

"That sounds excellent. Please follow us." Miss Militia said, motioning to the elevator doors.

If this was still a performance, their guests were determined to keep the charade to the bitter end. Dauntless threw one last look to the shuttle, which simply closed its ramp and lifted up to hang in the air above the building, like a literal Sword of Damocles if something happened to its charges.

"I'm glad to see that you trust us enough to come in unarmed." Miss Militia said as they boarded the elevator. It was just large enough to be a comfortable fit for the five of them.

This set off the blonde teen, who snickered aloud before catching herself. "Sorry..." She added, still shaking with silent laughter. "Its just that," She made a vague gesture at the Chiss, "doesn't really need weapons."

"I do have my lightsaber on me, I do hope that isn't going to be an issue." Aria Veil spoke in that pleasant, enticing voice of hers. It was a very strange choice to use in a translator. Then again, he might be reading too much in this and the device might just be a speech aid. That, however was neither here nor there. It was the lightsaber part that caught Dauntless' undivided attention and he shared a speculative look with his colleague.

"If I might be so bold to ask, what colour is it?" The heroine inquired.

"Red, of course." She answered, with a wide smile.

It was a very pretty smile, Dauntless noticed.

"Of course." he nodded. "It suits your eyes, I guess?"

"Oh, certainly!" The Chiss gushed. "It really does." She confided.

"You really don't sound like a Sith."

"Who knows, I might be a Dark Jedi, or I simply took it from one of them."

Dauntless really didn't want to contemplate the possibility that they were currently escorting a real Sith to meet the Director. The mind boggles at the very thought!

The elevator pinged as they reached the right floor, the doors opened and the heroes led the way. "The conference room is right through here." Miss Militia pointed down the corridor to the right.

Tattletale lost it again and giggled aloud at the tail end of the short exchange.

"Are you all right, miss?" The heroine asked.

"I'll be. Don't worry about me. You'll see..." The thinker waved the concern away. "You really still think that we're play-acting, don't you?"

"It's the most logical conclusion." Dauntless shrugged. He didn't like the implications their short conversation had, but for all he knew, they were simply being played for fools. "Even if I do harbour some doubts. That was a really cool shuttle you arrived on. One of those you use to come and go between the surface and your ship?" He fished for information.

"Its a really nice workhorse of a vessel." Aria explained. "Tough, swift and has a respectable cargo capacity, as you saw."

"That it does." Miss Militia agreed. There were at least a few accidents every year, when something like that aircraft would have been damn useful, both for the PRT, and the Protectorate.

From there, the heroine led their guests to the main conference room. Director Piggot waited for them inside, along with Armsmaster, and Dragon, who was present remotely.

A round of pleasantries followed and then it was finally time to see if the whole Earth Bet was fucked, or just Brockton Bay...


	8. Chapter 4 Parts 3&4

**AN: This part was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**31 December 2010**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Director Piggot carefully examined the newcomers. The teenage girl still didn't have herself back under proper control after her two outbursts – Emily saw and heard it all thanks to the many cameras within the building. Her first reaction was to dismiss Tattletale as just another unhinged Parahuman, God knew, they were all broken. This is all a circus, a performance, she kept telling herself, _hoping _that she wasn't wrong about it. Still, she had a role to play, and she was determined to do it in a professional manner, not like Armsmaster during the first official encounter with these mercenaries.

"Before we go any further, I believe it will be for the best that you offer us some proof to back up your claims. Even in the world after Professor Haywire, your story is very hard to believe." Piggot spoke in what she hoped was very reasonable voice, with her face a mask of polite attention.

"This is not a problem, Director." Aria waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, smiling softly. "Until the scientists at Mandal Motors made their breakthrough, and got durasteel plated confirmation about what they had stumbled upon, they found it hard to believe as well, the same was true for my Master once they briefed him. Let me tell you, its not often that something could make him so incredulous. If I may proceed?" To her credit, the Case 53 did ask first, politely too.

"Do go on." Emily gave her the green-light.

Aria raised her left arm, and a computer built into her armour's bracer lit up, projecting a small holographic image of what appeared to be a bald human with multiple small horns growing all over his head. He wore some kind of uniform too, though due to the small size of the hologram and its blue tint it was all but impossible to see any relevant details. Those familiar with Star Wars beyond the movies would likely recognize him as a Zabrak.

"Starfire, Nemesis Actual, what are your orders?" The voice sounded mechanical and impersonal, much more like one might expect from a translation device.

"Nemesis Actual, Starfire. You can show yourself. Tightbeam transmissions only to my location."

"Affirmative, Starfire. We'll move around the moon's north pole in sixty seconds. We've got communications equipment, which should be compatible with what the locals use at the ready. Nemesis Actual, over and out."

The hologram vanished and Aria lowered her arm. "Now you know where to look at as well." She added.

"I'm redirecting two of my satellites and the Hubble Telescope. We should have a visual shortly." Dragon confirmed.

"I'll try to contact them once they show themselves." Armsmaster said through gritted teeth, an action which immediately earned him a subtle look of disapproval from the Director.

Emily glanced at the two locals who arrived with the blue woman. The PRT had very little on Tattletale – she was supposed to be a small time con artist, possibly a thinker, though until now they lacked a credible confirmation on her status as a Parahuman. It was obvious that the teenage girl found it very hard not to double down laughing. The boy in the power armour, Grue, they had nothing on him. If he was a local talent as well, he had to be a recent trigger who had the presence of mind to keep low profile and hopefully stay out of trouble.

And the supposed alien? She simply continued to smile pleasantly, and stare at them with her disconcerting solid red eyes. The biggest issues Emily had with those eyes was the fact that they made Ms Veil, or was it Mrs?, harder to read.

The next couple of minutes stretched into a quiet eternity.

"Starfire, Nemesis Actual, we're on station above the Moon's north pole, visible from Earth." Those words came from Aria's arm.

"I'm scanning for them now. The Moon is close so there is no light lag to worry about, just a second or so. There will be a small lag when we use our comm unit." Dragon stated.

So, about two light seconds for a round trip to the Moon and back, which in turn meant that if Aria had really called a space ship in orbit, she might have access to fucking _faster than light _communications. That in turn, if true, made her impossible story more likely to be true. This was the first time, Director Piggot gave any real credit to the possibility and cursed herself for dismissing it as credible out of hand. She had to be honest to herself, until now she she had been acting merely to follow policy, which admittedly was in place for good reasons… Like to avoid needlessly antagonizing visitors from another dimension due to sheer disbelief.

"Director..." Dragon paused and everyone saw her avatar glitch a few times before smoothing up. "I've got a visual, putting it on screen."

There was a dark shape hanging above the Moon. Dragon's tinkertech satellite zoomed in showing a brick like solid form, one they observed from an angle. Only one side was visible, however that was more than enough to ring alarm bells within Emily's head. The vessel had a large turret amidship, with multiple smaller ones visible all over the hull. A boxy shape was visible attached to the side of its nose, likely a missile pod. If the spaceship was symmetrical, it meant that it had at least double the firepower they could observe, not that it mattered. What they saw already represented enough of a threat to make Emily very nervous.

"I'll try to contact them." Armsmaster's voice sounded flat and empty. At that moment, there was less humanity in it than the mechanical tones produced by whatever translator was built into the Chiss' computer.

All this, it was hard to swallow, for Director Piggot. Oh, she knew intellectually that the wild claim could have been real, no matter how unlikely it should have been. She simply didn't, couldn't bring herself to believe it. Even now, it had a hard time sinking in. Nevertheless, she had a job to do, perhaps the most important job anyone on Earth has had ever since the Haywire's fiasco, which nearly brought them to a war with Aleph.

Earth Bet simply couldn't afford a conflict with these people. That ship alone meant that they held the ultimate high ground, and currently it was anyone's guess how many other like it_ or bigger_ they could commit if the need arose.

Piggot gave a pointed look to Dragon. The tinker should already be busy lighting up fire under the feet of the Chief Director, people in Washington and Ottawa. Even if this was still a deception, a possibility that was becoming less and less likely by the second, it still meant that there was a ship in orbit around the moon. At that moment, Piggot didn't know what would be worse – that much apparent firepower in the hands of unstable capes, or if it was the herald of an alien civilization.

Damn it, she really needed a drink…

"Nemesis Actual, this is Armsmaster, please respond." The Hero repeated for a third time.

"They should receive the hail shortly." Dragon pipped in. "Right about now."

Everyone looked at the Chiss, and Emily reminded herself she had to stop thinking of the woman as a Case 53, doing so would make her misjudge her likely reactions. She had to consider the alien woman a blank slate, and make no assumptions about her agenda, threat rating or temperament.

"Nemesis Actual, Starfire." Aria raised her arm again, and activated the communicator. "You should be receiving a hail from my location, please confirm."

"Starfire, Nemesis Actual, I can confirm. We received a hail from an Armsmaster. Response is on the way back, as instructed we're using a tightbeam transmission. No one beyond the building you're in should be able to pick it up."

"Thank you, Nemesis Actual. Do we have a higher authority available to negotiate?"

"The Senator is ready to receive a call. Be advised, we still have issues keeping a stable channel through the breach. We can't guarantee stable and uninterrupted communication at this time."

"Affirmative. We'll keep it in mind, Starfire, over."

"Armsmaster, Nemesis Actual. We read you loud and clear." This came from the communications device built by the tinkers a few seconds later.

"I'm tracing the origin of the transmission..." Armsmaster said in a robotic, mechanical fashion. "It originates from near Moon space..." He trailed off. "I'll need a longer conversation to nail the precise location, however..." He stopped talking and nodded at Dragon's image.

"This combined with my observations, confirms that we have an unknown ship in orbit."

"A point, Ms Dragon. You do know the name and origin of the ship. She is the MFNS _Nemesis_, a scout frigate." Aria explained.

"I stand corrected, Ms Veil."

* * *

**=MK=**

**31 December 2010**

**PRT HQ**

**Los Angeles**

**Earth Bet**

Costa-Brown squashed a nearly overwhelming need to punch something. Whatever happened a week ago, threw everything into chaos. Cauldron, the Protectorate and PRT scrambled to find out who or what was responsible, not to mention, conduct damage control. Many thinkers found themselves unable to utilize their powers in the days that followed, rendered insensate from the sheer agony caused by the event. Others, the lucky ones, who got away with just a splitting headache, soon found that their pre- and post- cognition was less reliable than before.

In theory, this should have been a boon for Cauldron, and humanity as a whole. It still might be if Scion had been affected as well. However, observation of his avatar suggested that he didn't even notice. The entity had been on its way to Nebraska to save a kitten from a tree before heading towards China to help with a flood. Even as thinkers all over the world collapsed, he simply flew as if nothing had happened. Or perhaps he noticed and didn't care, or he was the one responsible for some unknown reason… There were many theories out there and a depressing lack of evidence to back up any of them.

What concerned Alexandria the most was the effect the event had on Contesa. All she could do once she was able to speak again, was to ask for a Path to Painkillers. After raiding the closest medical station, she spent the past few days cooped up in her room, refusing to go out, much less use her power.

As if all that wasn't enough, Costa-Brown had to deal with a murderous headache of her own on top of everything else, which was a dozy. Watchdog was in a meltdown, and if she failed to find a way to stop it soon, the economy was going to follow sooner rather than later. While villainous thinkers were affected as well, the same wasn't true for tinkers, who were the second most present threat to the economy at large.

The last thing Rebecca needed was another emergency. Of course, an emergency materialized without a fail in order to complicate her life even further.

"Costa-Brown?" She acted on reflex as the red phone on the corner of her desk began to ring, and picked it up. Very few people had its number, even fewer would call her on it unless the sky was falling.

"This is Dragon, Chief Director. We have a situation. I'm sending you the relevant files, and a live feed from the Brockton Bay PRT Building. You should see them, now." There was a tone and intensity to the AI's voice that Alexandria hadn't heard before, even during the worst Endbringer fights. She did as requested with uncommon haste.

"What is this about? The only present issue I'm aware of at the Bay is that new mercenary group..." Rebecca mussed as she opened the priority message that just arrived. She told the truth as well – no one had apprised her of any new developments on the East Coast that might be a problem enough to warrant her immediate attention, much less with the potential to disturb Dragon to this extent.

The first message contained a number of pictures. She clicked on the first, revealing an image of the moon and an object floating above it. Did Uber and Leet actually build something impressive? She couldn't think of anyone else in Brockton Bay or the vicinity who had even a prayer of creating something like this, however Rebecca almost immediately dismissed the possibility. The sheer industrial output needed for this, not to mention the raw materials, if not the PRT and Protectorate, then Cauldron would have caught on to the project long before it could be completed.

What else was there, the mercenaries? They did claim to be from another dimension, however the few thinker assets Alexandria currently had available didn't ring the alarm bells, so she had dismissed the possibility out of hand, an easy thing to do considering that her power didn't find the claim credible.

Well, fuck. Her mind began to race with possibilities, threat assessments and contingencies.

Costa-Brown opened the other pictures, which showed a closer look of the ship, it was obviously armed to the teeth, she noted, revisiting the threat it represented by itself, upwards. When she was done with the pictures, she opened the link to the live feed from the Brockton Bay's PRT HQ.

"Dragon, thank you for the head's up. I need to make some calls." Costa-Brown spoke even as she pushed her thinker power, disregarding the building headache the action caused. Days like these, she hated the fact that painkillers, even tinkertech derived ones, no longer had any effect on her.

For a moment, she wondered why she wasn't feeling the impact of this impossibility more strongly. _Shock, _her thinker power supplied.

Rebecca did her best to push it aside, and began dialling, while watching the unfolding meeting in Brockton Bay. This was the first time she regretted turning the place into a Petri dish for Parahumans to play in. That city was one of the worst possible locations in North America for first contact of such a magnitude, for she had been wrong in her assessment, her power told her almost _gleefully. _These people were for real, and their arrival was going to shake up the whole world.

A chilling thought ran through Alexandria's mind. How long ago had they arrived? Were they to blame for what happened to all the thinkers? Was that a prelude to an attack, merely a test or just an accident, if they were to blame in the first place...

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**31 December 2010**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

"I can safely say now that, your credentials are established, Ms Veil. Or is it a Mrs?" Piggot spoke with a forced calmness, putting her emotions aside with an ease born of dealing with the city's capes.

"I'm not married, nor do I intend to be anytime soon. I must commend you for holding back your emotions this way. If I didn't know any better, I would say you already knew the truth, Director." Aria responded.

The implication being that she could actually feel their emotions. Piggot's knee-jerk reaction was to consider the woman a possible master… though it might be simply experience in dealing with both humans and aliens, which were now obviously a fact, not fiction. She had a live one in her conference room. Of course, the worst case scenario was that Emily was in the presence of an uncommonly well behaved Sith, and lucky not to have triggered the woman into violence, if the movies were right – certainly not something she was ready to bet her life on. She needed more information, no matter how upsetting it might be. Emily braced herself and went on fishing, very politely and respectfully too.

"I would like to know more about you, your people and your intentions, if it won't be too much of a bother." Piggot asked.

"Now that you know who we are, we can get down to business. As I told your people," The Chiss nodded at Armsmaster, "we represent Mandal Motors, one of the largest corporations on Mandalore. While we are not empowered to negotiate any agreements between our respective governments, we can offer an avenue of communications both with our parent corporation and the Freehold's government. Through them, in theory, you can make contact with the Imperial Government as well. If you're interested, today we should be able to offer an introduction with one of the Imperial Senators, who is high up in the diplomatic circles of Coruscant."

"The Empire? Freehold? I'm afraid that those names don't necessary ring a bell. As you may already know, we might be familiar with a version of your… galaxy." Despite her best efforts, Emily knew she sounded as if she had bitten into an uncommonly sour lemon. The very thought of having to negotiate and deal with another Empire, even if they weren't Nazis, but potentially worse, it simply grated deep down.

"The Freehold is the common name used for the Mandalorian Freehold, the new nation encompassing what was previously known as Mandalorian Space and many of the surrounding sectors. The Empire, is the Federated Galactic Empire, which replaced the defunct Galactic Republic a few years ago." Aria patiently explained.

"Just to be clear, what is your status within the Mandalorian Freehold and the Federated Empire?" Dragon asked.

"I am Mandalore the Restorer's personal agent overseeing operations in your universe." Aria's answer wasn't very helpful – they lacked context to judge the importance and influence such a position might require.

"He is your people's leader, I take it?" Dauntless enquired.

"Mandalore is the Freehold's Head of State, that is correct. Before you ask," Aria raised a hand, "you should not expect any more of a personal intervention than he had offered. It was at his behest that Senator Skywalker freed some of her time to contact you. However, at this time, Mandal Motors, through their private security daughter company, the Mandalorian Knights, will remain the primary point of contact between your word and our galaxy. To be blunt, Director, something I believe you'll appreciate, at this point, Earth Bet isn't important enough to garner any more personal attention by the likes of Mandalore, or the Imperial Government at large, a sentiment I believe the Senator will share."

The implications weren't lost to the Earth Bet natives, and that was before their guest dropped one of the most loaded names in Star Wars fiction.

"I see." Piggot nodded stiffly. "I would like to ask you what we should expect from Mandal Motors, but first, it might be for the best to not make the Senator wait for our call. She sounds like a busy woman."

"She certainly is." Aria confirmed. She took a small disc from a compartment on the utility belt she wore over her armour – it was small enough to comfortably fit in the palm of her hand, and placed it on the table. At the same time, she raised her left arm and activated the built in computer. "We'll use the _Nemesis_ as a relay and another ship on our side in order to boost the signal. Hopefully, doing so would be sufficient to establish a serviceable connection."

"Starfire, Nemesis Actual. Link established. My Comm Officer is hailing Coruscant as we speak. Stand by."

"How far away is Coruscant?" Miss Militia inquired.

"About seven or eight thousand light years, give or take a few hundred, that's on a straight line of course. You need to cover roughly three times that distance to travel comfortably between their systems."

That certainly put things into perspective, even if no one but Dragon could possibly comprehend the truth of such a scale, and everything it represented. Or perhaps they were all still in shock, doing their best to wrap their heads around the new reality.

Each word that came from the alien's mouth, made the emergency bottle in her desk sound better and better, Emily thought.

"Starfire, Nemesis Actual, stand by to receive the Senator. We've got a working connection."

The disk lit up with blue light, which compressed and formed the head and shoulders of a woman in her late twenties. She wore forest green blouse, long brown curls framed her striking face, cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes shone with interest as she looked at each one of them in turn. The woman had an uncanny resemblance to the actress who played Padme Amidala in the movies, the largest obvious difference being the scars marring one side of her face. The eyes were different as well, not in colour or shape, they were decades older, and far harder, than the face that held them, the eyes of some who had seen hell, and came out on the other side – not entirely intact.

"Introductions are in order, I believe." Aria's smile shifted, becoming softer. "It's good to see you again, Senator."

"Aria, a pleasure, as always." The foreign diplomat offered a brief smile to the Chiss. "But you're right, please, introduce us."

"Senator, this is Armsmaster," Aria pointed at the armoured Hero. "The leader of the Protectorate unit designated East-Northeast. Beside him stands his counterpart, Director Emily Piggot leading the Parahuman Response Team, East-Northeast. These are Miss Militia and Dauntless from the Protectorate, and the tinker Dragon, present remotely. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Senator Padme Skywalker, representing Naboo, in the Imperial Senate and leading the Mid-Rim Alliance Delegation within said body."

"Senator." Armsmaster and the other heroes nodded respectfully, followed a moment later by the Director.

Emily's eyes roved over the holographic image, finally pausing on Skywalker's eyes. It was immediately obvious that whatever, whoever this woman was, she wasn't the same as portrayed by the movies. She had a veteran's eyes, she had seen, and done too much, certainly not someone to be taken lightly, much less be underestimated.

"This is an unofficial conversation, so I will speak plainly." Skywalker looked at Armsmaster and Piggot. "You do have my sympathy, at finding your world on the Freeholds' doorstep, and having the personal attention of Minister Yomaget, Mandal Motor's CEO. Considering the details of the situation I've been made aware of, and your location, Earth Bet is squarely within Mandalore's sphere of influence. For all practical intents and purposes, you are surrounded by Mandalorian territory. This obviously means that the Freehold will protect you from third party incursions from our side." The Senator explained.

She didn't say it outright, she probably wouldn't even suggest it in the future either, however the meaning was clear – their situation was going to be a mixed blessing at best. The question was, who would protect them from the Mandalorians and their corporations? The obvious answer was that such help would not come from the Empire.

"On the other hand, this is not exactly a bad place to be, all things considered. My read on the situation is that Mandalore will make your discovery public in the near future, likely in the following weeks, during the days leading up to the Victory Day celebrations." The Senator continued. "As I see it, your planet has a few things going for it. If it is confirmed that you're a version of humanity's long lost home world, you'll garner a lot of interest, especially among our historians, you're likely to see a lot of tourists as well, which given the security situation on your world, could cause complications."

Was this diplomatic speak for, 'don't let your capes fuck with our civilians or we'll fuck your whole planet, right back?', Emily wondered, feeling herself out of her depth.

One of the screens showing Dragon's avatar blinked to display the face of another woman. "Good evening, Senator Skywalker. I am Chief Director Costa-Brown, from the PRT. I've been monitoring this meeting, and I can promise you that if, or when, tourists from the Federated Empire, and the Mandalorian Freehold, come to visit Earth Bet, we will do everything in our power to ensure their safety."

"Good evening, Chief Director. I'm hearing a 'however' in there, that you want to add." The Senator greeted smoothly.

"Unfortunately, you're right, Senator. At this time we are in no position to offer any guarantees but the pledge that we do, and will continue to do the best we can." Costa Brown admitted.

"In that case, you might ask a representative from Mandal Motors, what surplus equipment they could get their hands on, and see if you can afford it." Skywalker suggested.

"Do you believe that a world like ours has anything to offer your people, or the Empire in general?" The Chief Director asked.

"That remains to be seen. If nothing else, tourism, visiting historians and archaeologists might offer you useful currency, however those are concerns for the future, something you'll need to discuss with Freehold officials. Officially, I can't be involved in this situation before Mandalore makes an official announcement."

"Yet, here we are, talking." Costa-Brown stated.

"Here we are." The Senator nodded. "This introduction was an unexpectedly kind gesture from Mandalore to both of us."

"If I may be so bold as to ask, who exactly is Mandalore the Restorer? I have the sneaking suspicion that we'll get a less biased answer from you, Senator."

Skywalker laughed at that. "Certainly. In contrast to many Mandalorians, I don't believe that Veil is the best thing that's happened to the galaxy since the discovery of the hyperdrive… If he decides to spend the necessary political capital, it is Mandalore who you'll have to contend with, and he will have at least some interest in your world, given its location. The man you known as Mandalore the Restorer, leader and founder of the Mandalorian Freehold, is one Delkatar Veil. Infamous General, politician, and the Dark Lord of the Sith."

God damn it, Piggot should have seen that one coming given her luck! If she was a betting woman, she would put her money on Aria Veil being that man's Apprentice, so a Sith as well, perhaps something more given the last name they shared, though that, at least might have been a mere coincidence. At least now they knew what exactly the Chiss meant when she called herself Mandalore's personal agent.


	9. Chapter 4 Parts 5&6

**AN: This part was betaed by Dweller by the sound on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**31 December 2010**

**The White House**

**Washington DC**

**Earth Bet**

Speaking with the PRT's Chief Director – at the best of times – was like going to the dentist, it was a given you weren't going to enjoy the experience. More often than not, getting anything out of the woman was like pulling teeth, further reinforcing the dentist analogy, President Jeffrey Hayes thought.

This new year's eve wasn't one of those few and far between 'good' times, as expected. It never was, when the Chief Director sent a request for a meeting marked critical. The fact that her message demanded, very politely yet firmly, that the Joint Chiefs of Staff were present, either in person or via conference link, guaranteed it. Hayes made the necessary calls to ensure that he would have as many of them present as fast as possible, while his active imagination began painting one catastrophic scenario, after another. The Birdcage being breached? Perhaps Elisburg's perimeter failed or there was another similar disaster in the making? The CUI got even crazier than usual?

When he was done making the necessary calls and received a confirmation that two of the Joint Chiefs will arrive within the hour, while the rest would be present remotely, the President did the next logical thing – found the TV's remote and checked the news for any disasters in progress. The lack of a new ongoing horrors caused by unhinged villains was a relief. It meant that whatever new disaster was about to unfold wasn't already in progress, so they might be on the ball for once, perhaps even prevent entirely, instead of being left holding the bag, picking up the pieces and trying to explain to the American public why the whole country was going to the dogs.

Once upon a time, not so long ago at that, Hayes had had high aspirations, he saw himself as the saviour that his nation needed. That blissful state of affairs and honest belief both persisted long enough to help him win the elections. Then he became the President Elect, got briefed upon all the sordid details surrounding Parahumans, along with the real state of the country, and it all came crashing down into grim reality.

Ten, perhaps even just five years ago, there might have been a conventional solution to save America, perhaps some their allies as well. Nowadays? Barring a miracle, they were all fighting a holding action, trying to stave off a collapse. It was less a matter of fixing and saving America, instead it was a fight to keep it going for as long as possible, while hoping for a divine intervention, or for Dragon to outdo herself.

Hayes could appreciate the irony. He got elected on a platform centred on revitalizing the economy and being tough on crime, both Parahuman and mundane. The former would continue to more or less work, for the time being anyway, as long as Watchdog didn't fuck up too badly. Nevertheless, with Endbringers around, any improvement would be a decidedly local affair – if villains didn't ruin it in the first place. Being tough on crime, well, he had to admit that despite all his time in politics, he had been taken in by the PRT and Protectorate's propaganda. It took the Chief Director and Alexandria explaining the facts of life, for him to get a real appreciation of the monumental problem Parahuman crime represented.

To put it simply, law enforcement and heroes across the country were generally outnumbered and outgunned. They really only had two things going for them – excellent training and better organization. In theory, the military was an options as well, however in practice it has been left to largely decay for years now. Even the best case scenarios concerning its deployment usually involved Pyrrhic victories. _If_ they won, not when.

It was all a numbers game in the end – America, hell, everywhere, needed more heroes, more PRT agents and tons of mass produced equipment, at least a few generations more advanced than anything available.

With every defeat, with every lost city, the numbers just got worse and worse.

There were days, Hayes wondered why did he even bother. Then he looked at the pictures of his children and forged on, for their sake and a chance, no matter how slim, that they would get to have a decent future.

* * *

**=MK=**

An hour later, the President sat in his chair at the head of the table in the Situation's Room. Army General Nicholas Grissom, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, was right in his assessment. He arrived fifty minutes after Hayes called him, with the Commandant of the Marine Corps, Theodore Sinclair, in tow. The other two Joint Chiefs were currently away from Washington, conducting inspections and only Admiral Simon Hood made it to a secure communications centre in time.

The Secret Service sealed the room, confirmed that they were reasonably secure against electronic surveillance and it appeared that no one was tapping the hard-lines to LA and New Orleans. They exchanged greetings, while flat screens lit up and streams of code ran across them as hardware performed handshake protocols, and confirmed that no one was listening, who shouldn't be. Only then were the emblems of the US Navy and the PRT replaced by two very different faces. Costa-Brown looked severe and harried for a change, still she cut an imposing image. Next came Admiral Hood, who couldn't be more different. He was a jovial ageing man, with a face covered by laugh lines and a few faded scars. While he did cut a distinguished image in his uniform, his bearing and temperament were almost the complete opposite, when compared to the Chief-Director.

Privately, Hayes believed that Simon was one of the primary reasons why he still hadn't lost his mind, while dealing with all the shit his office threw at him on a daily basis. It didn't help that he very clearly remembered that he actually wanted the bloody job not so long ago!

"Where's the fire, Becky?" Hood asked lightly, needling the Chief-Director, they all knew she hated being addressed that way by anyone she didn't consider a friend. Pro tip – it was an open bet with long odds if she actually had any friends, instead of allies and victims she had chewed up and spat out.

"Everywhere if we fuck this up." Costa-Brown snapped right back.

"Children, behave. You called us for a reason?" Hayes chided them both, before focusing his undivided attention on the Chief Director.

"I meant that literally, Mr President. We've got Winter Contingency in progress."

"When, where, how severe?" Hayes demanded. Winter Contingency meant they had made contact with another dimension, one which wasn't an enemy so far, but had the potential to become one. Disastrously so.

"Protectorate ENE, made first contact in Brockton bay, yesterday, after midnight. The actual when, we are not sure." Costa-Brown began.

"Well, it could have been worse." Sinclair muttered. "Somehow."

"Please tell me that the Slaughterhouse Nine aren't anywhere near Brockton Bay..." Hayes groaned.

"The latest intelligence claims they were last in Utah, going west. If they were in Brockton Bay, they might no longer be a problem, though we might have lost the city in the process." Costa-Brown grumbled and for a moment she had a distant look on her face.

"That bad?" General Grissom demanded. "For that matter, why are we hearing about it just now?"

"Worse. We just got a reasonable confirmation on the origin of our visitors." Costa-Brown sighed. "First contact was with what might be a PMC working for one of their major corporations, their people claimed that they were here to investigate work opportunities, and if we have anything of value to trade. However, we do have reasons to believe that even if they're exactly what they claim to be, they are acting as deniable assets for their government." Costa-Brown paused, took a deep breath and braced herself.

"We aren't going to like who they are, are we?" Admiral Hood asked in a sober tone and there was no trace of levity left in either his bearing or expression. "You still haven't answered the question, I notice."

"I called this meeting the moment we got a confirmation that we had Winter Contingency in progress." Costa-Brown glared in response. "We currently have a two hundred meters long 'scout frigate' in lunar orbit, which served as part of the proof about the identity of our new friends. They identified themselves as the Mandalorian Knights, a PMC founded by, and in service of Mandal Motors, one of the largest if not the largest corporation in Mandalorian Space." The Chief Director paused, letting them digest the bomb she just dropped, and by the way her eyes gleamed, she knew exactly how they felt not so long ago.

Hayes himself felt torn between sheer disbelief and feeling that someone had just struck him with a bloody fish. Repeatedly at that.

"This isn't an early Aprils day joke is it? Should we call Master/Stranger protocols on you, Chief Director?" The Commandant recovered first.

"Considering that we somehow have kept the situation under wraps, I decided not to risk sending photographic proof over the air until now. Verified copies are on the way to Washington as we speak. That said," Costa-Brown's hands moved off screen and within moments, an image a blocky ship replaced her face. "Dragon took these using two of her satellites, and the Hubble Telescope. For the time beings, the feed for the later is secure, however I'm not sure how long said state of affairs will last. Until this ship decided to show itself, we didn't know it was there. We don't know how long it has been up there, observing us, and how long ago it began inserting agents planet-side."

"And thus the first contact in Brockton Bay of all places." General Grissom concluded. "We'll need to hear more about it as well. Do proceed, Chief Director."

Costa Brown did as instructed. Hayes was right, he didn't like what he heard. Not at all. "Any chance that this is a mass hallucination, or that we're all Mastered?" He asked and his treacherous voice held a sliver of hope.

"The PRT has already dismissed such a possibility." Costa Brown countered. "That ship is real, we have at least a platoon of heavily armed and armoured alien soldiers, somewhere in Brockton Bay, a potential Sith of all things on the ground there as well, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. When I called this meeting, there was another one in progress in Brockton Bay, between the PRT, Protectorate, and a representative of the Mandalorians. Her name is Aria Veil, a picture of a stunning blue skinned woman replaced the close in still of the starship. "She works for Mandalore the Restorer, the Head of State of something called the Mandalorian Freehold – a star faring nation which incorporates Mandalorian Space and the nearby sectors. We don't know how large said nation is." Costa-Brown blurted out. "More concerning is that we have a tentative indication that Mandalore the Restorer is a man named Delkatar Veil, a Dark Lord of the Sith..."

The emergency briefing went downhill from there.

Star Wars was real, apparently. Hayes' mind still struggled with that revelation alone. He didn't know if it was better or worse that the dimension that dropped on their heads wasn't exactly the same as shown by the movies. Palpatine, Sidious, was confirmed dead, died as a martyr no less! There was still an Empire however, and even if the Sith didn't run it outright, that wasn't any better for Earth Bet in general, or America in particular. They had to deal with damned Mandalorians, who were in fact ruled by a Sith Lord, and by all accounts, happy about it.

"If they decide to invade, can we even do anything to inconvenience them?" Hayes eventually asked, even if he didn't quite believe everything yet.

"We might be able to take that ship. It would depend on if we can teleport a strike team on board, its internal defences, crew compliment and how well equipped and trained they are." Admiral Hood eventually responded. "We'd obviously need heavy Parahuman support on such an adventure. However, success or failure, it likely won't matter."

"How many ships do they have, how capable are they and how many can they throw at us if the situation deteriorates?"

The Commandant asked.

It was an excellent question too, unfortunately any answer would really be a baseless speculation.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**31 December 2010**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Aria Veil left for the armed assault shuttle waiting for her, the parting was peaceful and polite. No one made any overt threats, which all things considered, was a very fortunate. She even promised to put the PRT in touch with a Mandal Motors sales representative.

"How fucked are we exactly?" Piggot asked and rubbed her forehead. She already had a raging headache, and it was unlikely she would be getting any sleep tonight.

"Beyond any reason, Ma'am." Dauntless let out a tired sigh. "On the bright side, we might not have anything worth invading us over and in that case, all the villains would work with us. If we get conquered they would be someone else's problem, again, likely a headache, we just aren't worth it. I hope?"

"So say we all." Armsmaster muttered, earning himself surprised looks from everyone. Did he just crack a joke?

"What?" The armoured hero looked around at his colleagues in confusion.

"For us in particular, and Brockton Bay in general, it's largely academic if we'll be getting invaded in the future or not." Piggot pointed out. "How do we keep our villains from provoking the Mandalorians and our resident Sith into burning the city down around our ears?"

Assault and Battery, who stood in reserve until now, entered the room just in time to hear Emily's question.

"Call the Chief Director, beg for all the help, ask the fair lady Dragon and the Guild to come too, and we remove our villain problem before its too late?" Assault suggested and everyone's heads snapped in his direction. "I do have good ideas!… sometimes." He added deffensively.

"It might actually work." Armsmaster offered, almost desperately.

"I'll make the call." Piggot agreed, because anything was better than their new residents tearing the city apart if they decided that the gangs had to go, especially if the Sith decided to show her true colours and called fire support from their "scout frigate" in orbit.

* * *

**=MK=**

_For most people on Earth Bet, new years eve was more or less normal, for one in the age of heroes anyway. As far as people knew, they got to see the dawn of another year, so that was something to celebrate, right? Still, there were many with little left to celebrate – refugees, victims of capes and Endbringers alike, people screwed over by the economy going to hell for years now, and many more whose luck had ran out, no matter if they did their best, or were general fuck-ups. _

_Little did they know that the world had already irrevocably changed. After all, even in this new age, for many the day to day life wouldn't change anytime soon. _

_Even as most of the world celebrated, or suffered in blissful ignorance, those few in the know, planned and plotted. _

_In Brockton Bay, the Protectorate and PRT called their superiors for help, and given the circumstances, they hoped that said help would actually be dispatched for once. They dusted off contingency plans, and began crafting new ones. _

_Little did they know, that the PRT in the city was compromised nearly from the ground up. Shortly after the Mandalorian delegation left, multiple informants embedded into the organization made unsanctioned calls, breaching the information lockdown. As luck would have it, first to learn about the new development was the Empire 88, even if Kaiser wouldn't be informed until early in the morning on the 1st of January due to being stuck in a celebration with the Mayor and other notable public figures from the city and surrounding area. _

_When he heard of the new development, he smirked in a way more akin to a wolf baring its fangs, than a human expression of joy, and issued his orders. The Mandalorians and the Empire they served were not to be touched. Instead, he would be dispatching envoys. From what he knew of Star Wars, the Galactic Empire was humanocentric, amazingly racist, and delightfully ruthless. They would make for great new allies and benefactors. The only fly in the ointment was the fact that the most famous Mandalorian in fiction wasn't white. While Kaiser himself didn't care one way or another, that fact might be an issue for many of the rank and file, something to consider. _

_Coil was the second to learn about the new development, more importantly, now he knew where his Tattletale went. He also could make an educated guess about the fate of his mercenaries. He held no illusions – Tattletale loathed his guts. While she was likely in the same situation now, merely working for a different master, he was sure she would point her new employers his way at the first opportunity. _

_The conclusion was obvious, Coil had a choice to make – he could either serve a new master as well, if they had use for his abilities, or make himself scarce, while he removed Tattletale from the board. She was simply too dangerous, could infer too much from the barest scraps of information. If he couldn't have his people snatch her, bring her in for some quality time of interrogation and fun at regular intervals, in a disposable timeline of course, she would have found a way to kill him already, Coil knew that for a fact. _

_Coil split timelines. In one he ordered his people to prepare for evacuation. In the second one, he dispatched plain clothed and lightly armed mercenaries – for self defence, obviously, to locate the Mandalorian base in the docks and sound them out as prospective employers. _

_Lung was the third to learn the truth. He ordered his people to shore up their defences and dispatched Oni Lee to expedite the retrieval of his new tinker. With Bakuda's bombs and his own power, he would endure, for he was Lung. He was fire and rage incarnate. **He. ****W****as. Dragon!** He would bow to no one ever again! _

_Last and by far the least, came the Merchants…_

* * *

**=MK=**

**1 January 2011**

**Merchant safe house**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Skidmark awoke with a groan of pain and full bladder. He cursed up a storm, something that made his head feel like it wanted to crack itself open from the inside, crawled out of his bed and stumbled into the bathroom. After he was done, he remembered that his bed was cold – Squealer had been missing since… he couldn't recall. She wasn't at the rave last night, and missed out on some excellent new tinker drugs.

Fuck this shit, he thought. He needed a fix, something to eat, and to find his tinker. A girlfriend he could replace. A very useful and eager tinker on the other hand… well he had drugs to make them eager and biddable. It was the tinker part that was the problem, the lack of it.

First things first. Drugs, food, go threaten to cut off his informants, both from money and the good stuff, unless they found him either his girl, or another useful tinker. Plan firmly fixed within this aching brain, Skidmark headed for the kitchen. It took some time, a bit of trial and error, eventually he managed to fix himself a bowl of slightly stale cereal – Dragon-Os, tinkered to be tasty! -. At least there weren't any such performance issues with the drugs. Now that he had his pick me up and was raring to go, he went to find his phone. Huh, there were a lot of missed calls and messages.

Lets see, people wanting drugs, people wanting to sell him drugs, people who wanted… aha, this was from one of his moles in the PRT, a bastard who had very expensive tastes, which was only right. It wasn't cheap to procure tinker drugs that didn't show up on tests and didn't fuck up your head too much, it wasn't like Skidmark had much use for those – what was the point to get a pick me up if you didn't fell it, man?

Well, that cunt was a pig so it explained his perverse tastes in drugs. Let's see… What was this shit? Mandalorians? Star Wars? The fuck? They hit his warehouse? He was going to skullfuck those cunts! They had his Squealer the fucking dickless wonders, that's where she was! Skidmark dismissed the rest of the messages without even bothered to skim through them and called everyone.

Well, he tried. Most Merchants were still too high, drunk, or fucked out, to be of any use, including the capes. Well, fuck this shit. He would be ready, get the best drugs, guns and the vehicles Squealer had been working on, then he was going to find them, skullfuck them all to death, then he was going to kill them all!

Skidmark nodded to himself. That sounded like a great fucking plan! Emphasis on fucking, because when he was done, everyone was going to feel his big fucking dick so far up their…


	10. Chapter 5 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**1 January 2011**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

With the new year came new problems for Director Piggot. Well, that conclusion wasn't quite fair of her, however Emily didn't particularly care. The only reason she got a brief respite last night was because she needed dialysis, while her people ran around trying to formulate contingency plans, which might see them avoid a close and personal acquaintance with the ordnance carried by the ship in orbit.

By the time Emily left the machines keeping her from dying behind, she had a new crisis on her hands, one that had little to do with their extraterrestrial visitors. The Mandalorian's arrival merely brought said issues to light, a fact that caused divided feelings within the Director. Who knew how long this would have gone on unnoticed if it wasn't for the aliens?

Emily sat heavily in her chair, placed her elbows on her desk, and held her hands together in an effort to keep them from trembling with rage. Armsmaster and Deputy Director Renick stood at attention in front of her, while Dragon's avatar peeked from her desktop's monitor.

"Can someone explain to me how all the gangs in the city know about our visitors just a few hours after we confirmed their status ourselves?" Emily growled, sounding like a particularly hungry and irate carnivore. God, how she needed a bloody drink right now…

"We're investigating." Armsmaster ground out. "My best guess? We have moles."

"Who slipped through all our screening." Renick added helpfully.

"What do we know right now? How much damage this latest leak has already caused?" Piggot held no illusions that this has been a new development. This was Brockton Bay, by definition the PRT couldn't be that lucky in this cursed city.

"We're seeing a lot of speculation and derision across PHO and other notable forums. So far, there aren't many people who take the claims seriously, primary conspiracy theorists and science fiction enthusiasts. The Chief Director was one of the people I contacted first to consult with. We decided not to follow on my first reaction, and clamp down on the leak. Doing so would merely give these claims more credit, not to mention, doing so will hit diminish our credibility when we have to publicly acknowledge the existence of the Mandalorians."

"Less than ideal, but it can't be helped, I guess." Emily grumbled. "Can you at least trace the source of the leaks?"

"The posts on the forums and social media, primary PHO, came from confirmed and suspected accounts belonging to Empire and ABB known and suspected supporters. All original claims came from Brockton Bay's area." Dragon said. "This naturally helped us narrow down the possible location of the leak. The timing also points towards the leak coming from this building, Director." Dragon sounded apologetic.

"Director, I must officially request outside assistance so we can ensure that our systems aren't compromised as well in a timely fashion." Armsmaster asked.

"I am willing to help, with your express permission of course, Director Piggot." Dragon hurried to add.

"Do so. If our computer network is compromised, I want it dealt with, and the people responsible found, yesterday." Now it was Emily's turn to grind her teeth. Moles and possibly compromised network, it certainly explained a lot. Naturally, if true, which was all but a given at this point, it was going to open a whole new can of worms, because PRT personnel had to be carefully vetted, not to mention the little fact that their computers were among the most secure on the planet as a matter of course.

"Renick, do we have an answer from LA and Washington?" Piggot changed the topic.

"Not yet. We did receive a message from the Chief Director's office, she is calling a conference with the other Directors at noon – at worst you'll be able to make your case then."

"For all the good it did before..." Emily muttered bitterly. "Am I right to assume that our visitors have been quiet?" An assumption on account that no one came barging in medical wing, screaming that the sky was falling.

"No sightings reported, for what that's worth." Renick shrugged. "With their demonstrated stealth capabilities, most people, capes or otherwise, won't see them unless they want to be seen."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Mandalorian Knights temporarily FOB**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

All Mandalorians, with the exception of those currently posted as security, gathered at the centre of the warehouse and sat on folding chairs. Aria and Captain Kanto Terrin, the highest ranking Knight planet-side, stood in front of them, ready to begin the daily briefing. He was another veteran of the Clone Wars, like almost all shooters hired by the Mandalorian Knights. Terrin was a former Mandalorian security officer, who fought first against the Death Watch when they betrayed the Mandalorian people, fought against the Droids Grievous managed to land before the cyborg was destroyed, and later, distinguished himself during the Siege of Mandalore.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you've paid any attention whatsoever, you'll know that there have been some significant developments since yesterday. The original plan is now largely defunct since we stumbled into contact with the local government and law enforcement." Aria explained. "Nevertheless, we will still follow its core tenets for as long as practical. We're here to represent the Mandalorian Freehold in general and Mandal Motors in particular. Our conduct reflects on them, and Mandalore himself." At her last words, everyone sat a bit straighter in their chairs. It still never ceased to amaze Aria how much weight her Master's name carried with his people. To be able to inspire such devotion, it was both humbling, as well as something to strive to emulate.

"In that order, our conduct must be beyond approach. We will not even hint about our sealed orders to the locals." The Captain continued. "As far as they're concerned, we are merely highly professional, and uncommonly honourable PMC as they call mercenaries around here. To that effect, retrieval of hostile Parahumans, unless we can do it without leaving a trace, or possess a legal cover, will no longer be among our objectives. However, capture of any tinkertech used against us, certainly remains one."

"Our primary task on that front will be to gather data on Parahumans in general and create a SOP for Commando units, which might be tasked with Parahuman retrieval. Possibly brief such units in person, perhaps even train them." Aria added. "The same goes for other Knight units, which will be deployed planet-side in the future to safeguard our interests. While we will be the face of our people, I can say for sure that neither Mandal Motors, nor the Freehold would contain their contact and dealings on Earth Bet merely to this country, however that is not something you should worry about at this time." The Sith nodded to her Knight counterpart.

"Our primary short term concerns largely remain the same – find if there are any lucrative jobs for the Mandalorian Knights, figure out what this planet has to offer beyond the obvious, and VIP protection, like the Sales Representative, who should arrive in two days, early Monday morning local time, to open preliminary talks with the PRT and Protectorate. To that end, we'll hold another briefing at noon, once Specialist Wilbourn arrives with the data she has compiled for us. Platoon commanders and senior NCOs will take part in said briefing."

"Next are security concerns. It appears that our new friends in the PRT either have their network compromised or a traitor in their midst. Specialist Wilbourn informed me earlier this morning that there are already hints about and outright claims of our presence on the planetary data-net. We should expect probing attacks from local criminal elements, in particular the Merchants as a retaliation to the raid on their warehouse. In such an eventuality, we should be able to get away with recovering any hostile Parahumans we neutralize, who we will then ship back home. To prepare for a possible attack, we'll again review the known abilities of the so called villains in charge of the Merchant's gang..."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Joanna Ordo Hospital**

**Sundari **

**Mandalore**

Lyn Andrews awoke feeling warm and comfortable. Most importantly, she wasn't in pain. On the down side, her mind was still fuzzy, a depressingly familiar sensation as of late. She curled into the bed, dragging the covers over her head. They were soft, and smelled clean – something she hadn't experienced in some time. Ever since… Lyn shook herself fully awake, her eyes shot wide open, and she looked wildly around, searching for danger.

The sight that greeted her was one she had lost hope of ever seeing again – it was a large, well lit modern hospital room.

"Am I dreaming?" Lyn rasped through a parched throat. The last thing she remembered, _oh God…_ What those bastards did to her… she shook in terror and revulsion as she remembered the Merchants grabbing her, all the drugs, the abuse… _Please God, let be all over, she prayed… _

Lya's distress didn't go unnoticed – one of the machines near her hospital bed beeped and soon the door slid open to reveal a young, female nurse. She was a little bit taller than Lya, however even before the Anderson's ordeal, the medic would have weighted at least thirty percent more, all of it muscle and sinew.

"Good morning, Ma'am. I see you're awake at last." The Mandalorian greeted kindly.

When the shaking woman didn't register her words, the nurse sighed. She had seen such scenes far too many times to count already. Damn it, the war was over, this shouldn't be happening again, especially not on Mandalore! She recalled the origin of her patient only after her temper flared up, and forced her emotions in check. She retrieved a small hypo-spray from her belt – the one with the calming solution, not the knock out drugs, they were on the other side of her belt, and meant for warriors who were too restless to stay put while the doctors put them back together… or people suffering from too much PTSD. The nurse moved swiftly and injected the patient with a dose of the calming agent. The woman flinched at the sensation, tried to get away, yet soon relaxed as the drug cocktail kicked in.

"You're safe now, Ma'am!" The nurse explained calmly. She had already put down the hypo-spray and had her hands raised in a non-threatening manner. "You are at the hospital," She continued. "You are safe, no one will hurt you in here, you have my word."

Lya stared at the woman she didn't see approach. Whoever she was, she obviously wasn't a Merchant – too well fed, muscled, not to mention clean, to be one of them. Only then she remembered that she had somehow ended up in a hospital, so she managed to escape! Relief flooded her, drowning out the surge of adrenaline that had her in its grip and she collapsed bonelessly on the bed, sobbing in relief.

"Shh, its going to be all right. I'm nurse Granger, I promise we'll take good care of you." The Mandalorian woman continued to speak soothingly. "Can you tell us your name? You had no ID one you when they brought you in."

"Lya." The patient sniffed. "Lya Anderson."

"It's good to meet you, Ms Anderson." Nurse Granger offered a kind smile. "You were a mess on arrival, however I'm glad to say that we managed to fix almost everything that was wrong with you. Right now we're working on the last few issues. You should be physically fine by the end of the week..."

"Good, that's good, right?" Lya asked. "Where am I?"

"At the Joanna Ordo Hospital." Granger answered.

"I… don't recall any such hospital in Brockton Bay." Lya stated in confusion.

"You aren't in Brockton Bay. I believe it would be for the best that I call your attending doctor, he'll be better able to fill you in after your check-up." A bit of worry flashed through Granger's eyes and it was fortunate that Lya wasn't able to pick up on it.

The combination of profound relief, going down from her panic attack and the drugs, saw to that.

* * *

**=MK=**

**1 January 2011**

**PRT HQ  
Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

The Parahuman Response Teams regional directors met via teleconference exactly at noon. A few of them appeared to be under the weather, because they could indulge in more than a few drinks last night, if they were lucky, the bastards. Most of them did look very much sober and concerned, something that might finally would persuade them to send help to Brockton Bay. Perhaps pigs would fly and hell would freeze over as well…

"You were all briefed on recent events." The Chief Director began without wasting any time on pleasantries. "The first thing I need to know is if there are any traces of extraterrestrial incursion outside of the Brockton Bay area?"

A solid round of noes came from the assembled directors.

"Are we a hundred percent sure this isn't some kind of elaborate hoax?" Tagg demanded.

"As sure as we can practically be with many of out thinker assets still recovering." Costa-Brown shot back. "According to Watchdog and other similar assets, we should be cautiously optimistic about the situation."

"Those are the same assets that gave us no warning about said situation, Chief Director?" Director Armstrong wondered aloud.

While he was one of the Directors most liked by their subordinates, especially the Protectorate working with them, Piggot mistrusted the Bostonian. In her mind, Kamil Armstrong had an unhealthy fascination with Parahumans and put too much trust in what were for all intents and purposes broken people handled too much firepower for anyone's comfort. It wasn't a matter on if, but when most capes would shatter under pressure. Therapy might help there, yet those who consented on getting it outside the mandated minimum, were few and far between. It didn't help that even now, there weren't that many reliable and trustworthy people who could help them.

"That's what we have to work with, Director Armstrong. Right now, Washington is in a meltdown mode, sheer panic will follow over the next few days. I'll have my hands full with damage control. None of us wants to see certain parties overreacting." Costa Brown gave Tagg an ill disguised glare. "For the time being, the best I could do is ensure more or less hands off approach towards our visitors. At least in the short term, Director Piggot will be on point." Only now Costa Brown turned to look at the Director in charge of Brockton Bay. "Emily, you can expect the arrival of a delegation from Washington, primary State Department people along with a military observer or two. The DC branch will provide them with PRT escort, which will remain in Brockton Bay under your command for the time being."

"I see." Piggot ground her teeth, but somehow kept her face blank. "Am I to presume that we won't be seeing any more aid coming?"

"The thinker backed consensus is that if we reinforce you significantly, the Mandalorians might see it as a prelude of attack. There are certain parties who demand a pre-emptive strike in order to capture as much advanced technology as possible, and neutralize the currently existing beach head on American soil in the process." Poisonous sarcasm dripped from every words as Costa-Brown began explaining that particular insanity.

"Are those parties aware that there is a warship in orbit, one that we'll be hard pressed to touch at the best of times?" Armstrong asked incredulous.

"The same intellectual geniuses want us to capture or neutralize said vessel by either teleporting a strike team or a bomb on board." The Chief-Director admitted in a long suffered tone. "Until said parties calm down, the President's belief is that it would be for the best that we don't have the assets in place for a pre-emptive strike on a short notice."

In other words, so he could have enough time if someone tried to go over his head so it could be called all off before it was too late. Once upon a time, something like that would have been unthinkable. Nowadays? If something happened to the President, even a suspicion of him being Mastered, could put him out of the loop for a short while.

"Because even if we achieve a tactical victory it would be the worst strategic defeat we could possible arrange for ourselves." That statement came from a surprising source – James Tagg. "Don't look at me like that, Rebecca!" He snapped. "I might have proposed that we put certain contingencies in place, I never advocated using them unless it was as a last resort!"

"This is the hand we've been dealt, ladies and gentlemen, we'll have to play with it." Costa-Brown continued after grudgingly giving Tagg a nod. "At any rate, we will quietly have a few teams ready to deploy along with teleporter prepared to insert them if the situation in Brockton Bay deteriorates beyond Emily's ability to handle."

Which was big stinking pile of bullshit! For years now the situation in the city had been beyond the local PRT and Protectorate's ability to handle! The never sufficiently damned Nazis alone outnumbered and outgunned them, the less said about Lung the better – he could take them all on alone and win. The only gang they could handle for sure without ruining the city in the process was the Merchants. Doing even that much was liable set Brockton bay on fire anyway, because then the Empire 88 and the ABB would go at each other in order to divide the now vacant territory. At best, that would mean short term open warfare on the streets. At worst, the rain of swords and rage dragon that often figured prominently in Emily's nightmares, almost as often as Elisburg, and Rinke's monsters.

Piggot wondered what would it take in order for the powers that be to offer her the support she needed, and she wasn't sure she would like than answer, much less experience it first hand.

* * *

**=MK=**

**1 January 2011**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bay**

It took Skidmark until late in the afternoon, with dusk fast approaching, to gather enough of the Merchants in one place and drive three of Squealer's mostly complete vehicles at the safe house where they met. With his tinker gone, the only other reliable cape he had was Mush, who was admittedly rather useful. Skidmark raged for nearly an hour, while his guys and girls gathered, when not a single other cape answered his offers of money and free drugs, if they came to join him in fucking to death a bunch of pissy newcomers! He wasn't going to forget that!

Finally, everyone who was sober enough to move arrived. Skidmark jumped on a stack of crates, which would serve as a good enough speaking platform. "You, bastards and bitches!" He grinned at the gathered addicts, and kicked down a strategically placed open sack full of drugs, so it spilled in front of the crowd. "Some greasy cunts fucked with us!" Skidmark sneered. "They took my Squealer!" He roared at the ceiling, making the smarter Merchants take a step back. "Now, we're going to find them and fuck them all dead, you hear me! I've brought you weapons," Skidmark pointed at some crates nearby full with rifles, sub-machine guns and pistols, "I've brought you some of the best rides my gal Squealer could build," he waved at the three monstrous vehicles that barely fit in the open space to his left, "and most importantly, I've brought you drugs!" Skidmark leered. "The good stuff!"

By that he meant designer and tinker made combat drugs he had kept safe for a rainy day, like today, when he simply had to skullfuck bitches to death, rend asses and piss on names!

"Go get your favourite guns!" Skidmark ordered. "Go, you cunts!" He screamed when only a few of the Merchants headed for the weapon crates. That put the fear of him in fucking feckless bastards and they went, grabbing guns and ammo. "Good, good..." Skidmark cackled.

The gang leader jumped off his perch and patted the second sack with drugs he had on the ready – those were the expensive tinker made ones. "Now come here to Santa Skiddy to get your fix! I'm offering the best stuff, it will put hair on your chest, and steel in your witless guts!" Or was it the other way around? He couldn't remember the sales pitch that Boston tinker gave him, he just knew it sounded awesome at the time.

They came, they either munched on pills, snorted powders or shot glowing liquids up their veins, and it worked! Skidmark could see it in the shifty cunt eyes! The drugs turned them into stone cold killers just asking for a target!

"Get your fucking asses in, we're going to war!" Skidmark exclaimed gleefully, and made his way to the largest, most heavily armoured of Squealer's tanks.

Eager howls answered him and he laughed like a maniac. This, this was real power! He was going to show them, she was going to show everyone why no one fucked with the Archer Bridge Merchants! It was the Merchants who fucked you until you begged for death! Then they fucked you some more!

"Mush, get in, you cunt!" Skidmark roared after he planted his ass behind the driving wheel.

A small mountain of trash rose from the ground at the back of the warehouse and half-walked, half-dragged itself to the armoured truck. Instead of trying to get into the crew compartment, which was already chock full with Merchants, it climbed on the roof and held tight.


	11. Chapter 5 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**1 January 2011**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Patrolling within cities, especially when collateral damage was a concern, was one of the more dangerous jobs infantry all over the galaxy found itself stuck with. Well, two galaxies now, Sergeant Horst thought. At any rate, it was much safer than orbital drops – the men and women who were eager to get themselves stuck within small metal coffins so they could be launched from high orbit straight into the teeth of enemy defences, well they were either fearless, crazy or both. Emphasis on crazy. Mathew insisted that he wouldn't have any of those fire-eaters under his command. He wanted to live long enough to retire after all.

Cities were prime ambush ground, the locals usually knew the place much better than you, knew the best hiding places, the most likely roads that might allow them to exfiltrate after an ambush as well. When you patrolled into a foreign city, as often as not, the natives weren't your friends, with all that entailed.

Brockton Bay, at least this part of it, was no different. Horst's unit walked quietly through the twilight that came just after sunset, moving like ghost through freezing mist and steadily increasing snowfall. Here and there they saw homeless people seeking shelter within abandoning buildings, with the odd scruffy man or woman trudging through largely deserted streets.

When the attack came, it was without warning. It wasn't an ambush either. A loud, prolonged crack rend the air, the air in the middle of the street twisted and screamed as a large, ugly vehicle tore its way into existence. The portal shut down with a pulse of electricity, which arched through the wet ground and falling snow, vaporizing the latter in a spectacular pyrotechnic display. The vehicle came in fast and its front wheels slid over wet and freezing film of snow. Predictably, it proceeded to slide straight out of control.

"Contact!" Zina shouted and dove away. The other five Mandalorians scattered as well, ignoring the electric discharge washing over them and disrupting their stealth. Horst activated his repulsorlift unit the moment he comprehended that the vehicle headed his way. Sudden acceleration jolted him as he shot up, just in time too, his feet barely missed the turret on the top of the up-armoured and up-gunned truck as it slid below him.

Without thinking, the Sergeant activated his emergency beacon, signalling that his unit was under attack. He landed hard, the repulsorlift pod spluttering as it struggled to compensate for the energy discharge. With the stealth down, his armour activated its built in shields, leeching off the electricity still arching over its surface layer and channelling it straight into the defence field emitters.

"Weapons, free.!" Horst snapped. "Central, Patrol One, we're under attack, requiring assistance. Can confirm one Merchant technical." The Sergeant wasted no time in bringing his blaster to bear on the truck, which had ceased moving after burring itself halfway through the wall of an abandoned office building.

The crash hadn't been enough to disable the vehicle, neither its crew – multiple turrets rotated seeking targets. The ramp at its back fell open with a crash, disgorging a large group of screaming maniacs.

Zina rolled over the wet ground and took a prone firing position. She had just enough time for a single shot, sending a blaster bolt straight into the chest of one of the first Merchants to disembark, before two small turrets, on at the side of the vehicle, the other on its roof, locked on her position and opened fire. The unlucky merchant collapsed back without a sound when the hot plasma blew a huge hole in his chest and cooked his remaining organs. The unfortunate man behind him fell back as well, screaming as heated gas seared his front.

The vehicle revved up its engine and drove forward, tearing its way free from the building. In the process, it showered the dismounting infantry with chunks of masonry and broken bricks, destroying what little cohesion they had in the first place. Instead of breaking, the Merchants roared in anger and excitement, and charged heedless of the danger.

"Move back, keep the range open and find cover!" Horst ordered even as he kept firing at the vehicle, ignoring the lightly armed and unarmoured infantry. He followed his own advise and activated the repulsorlift, vaulting back – it was yellow on his HUD, some overload damage, but otherwise operational. While mid-flight, Mathew mentally patted him back for his quick thinking, it saved his life – the large turret had turned his way and sent a blinding bright spear of light though the space he occupied just a heartbeat earlier. That particle beam was potent enough to slice through his charging shied as if it wasn't even there. A moment later, he Horst got another confirmation about how close he just got to dying – the front of the brick building behind him blew up, showering everyone on the streets with debris; it also sent him stumbling through the air.

Zina had to stop firing at the enemy infantry as soon as she began, in order to roll away from dull laser beams, which rend deep and thin smoking craters in the ground. One of them lanced over her shield, dispersing at contact, yet significantly weakening the defence field. Two more beams criss-crossed over her form, expending their fury upon the shield and only scorching the armour's paint. Zina didn't want to figure out what those weapons could do to bare allow and triggered her repulsors, which promptly sent her skidding over the ground, just fast enough to keep in front of the tracking turrets.

"I need assistance!" She snapped into the battlenet.

"Patrol One, Starfire. I'm deploying in person with half the QRF. Stay alive, we're on the way. Starfire over."

"Kriff this. Grenade!" Jake shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, comms or no comms. A heartbeat later, he triggered the grenade launcher attached to his blaster rifle. The first charge – a concussive one, hit the vehicle's cockpit, its detonation visibly distorting the air as it expended itself to produce a concussive shock-wave. The second grenade – a HE one, blew off the front left wheel of the truck and sent it skidding, no longer turning towards the Clone. The third and last, an AP grenade, sliced through the side of the vehicle and sent a shower of molten metal within whatever compartment it penetrated.

Jake didn't have time for a fourth shot – he had to jump as well when three turrets converged on his position. Lasers and railgun slugs battered his shields down before the vehicle's primary weapon took aim and swept its beam in his direction. Jake screamed as arctic light cut through his legs, leaving his armoured feet fall behind. His armour wasted no time administering painkillers and stimulants even as emergency sub-routines activated and sent his repulsorlift unit on overload in a desperate attempt to avoid the heavy firepower coming his way.

"Deploying plasma!" Zina shouted after she cut off her repulsorlift pod and stopped skidding over the asphalt. She grabbed a bright red sphere from her rig, disengaged its safeties and threw it under the vehicle, which had crashed in the same building for the second time. As soon as the plasma grenade left her hand, Zina pushed her repulsors so she could displace, barely avoiding laser beams aiming her way. They were quire visible for a change, having to drill their way through mist and falling snow. In fact, reflecting light lit up the whole street as the two sides exchanged fire. Lasers refracting through mist and vapour from boiling water simply added to the surreal picture.

"Shab!" Horst spat as his repulsor failed, bringing him down too close to the enemy APC. He activated the emergency override for his shields, dumping as much power as his armour could channel into their emitters and curled into as small a ball as he could. Lasers and kinetic slugs glanced off his hardened shields, the particle beam took aim and unleashed its fury at him at the very same moment the plasma grenade detonated. A pillar of fiery plasma emerged under the truck, picking it up and boiling armour away. All over the street, water, snow and mist flash-boiled away to be blown away from the coming shock-wave. The lucky merchants died without feeling a thing as plasma seared them into charred husk. Those distant enough, fell on the ground writhing in agony they never imagined could exist.

The vehicle itself survived largely intact – or so it appeared when it fell back on the ground. Its tires were simply gone, large parts of its lower armour glowed white, when it hadn't melted outright, however most of its weapons appeared intact.

When Zina landed, she snapped orders to the two intact members of their unit to take care of the wounded and opened fire on the truck. "Control, Patrol Three. Patrol One and Two are down, we need reinforcements and immediate medical extraction, over!" She sent two short bursts at the closest laser turrets, slagging it, and aimed her grenade launcher at the particle beam, feeling relieved that vehicle's weaponry was silent for the time being. Corporal Quale had no intention of allowing it to speak again in anger. The concussive and HE grenades did little to the turret, however the AP one managed to leave a nice, neat hole just under its barrel. Zina took a careful aim before pressing the trigger again. The fourth and final grenade in the magazine, a V-8 Haywire, slammed into the turret, next to the hole made by the penetrator. With the armour compromised, the electromagnetic pulse would hopefully overload any and all electronics within the turret.

The grenade detonated, sending tendrils of azure lighting flash all over the vehicle, searing metal and slagging electronics. The Corporal wasted no time and reloaded her grenade launcher with a proton grenade, it was small and mean, meant to deal with armour among other targets. She aimed at the smoking truck wondering if she should put it out of her misery in order to be on the safe side, when two more piercing cracks came from nearby. Acting on instinct, Zina fell on one knee and aimed in the direction the sound came from. Two more vehicles had appeared fifty metres down-street. One was a huge APC that would have had hard time fitting under the ceiling of their FOB. The second looked like a cross between a truck and the front part of a tank, complete with three turrets, one of which had an oversized cannon stuck in, a weapon that appeared to be too big to comfortably fit inside.

"Control, Patrol Three! We've got more enemy vehicles, an APC and tank! We need backup now! I've got two wounded to extract and not enough people to do it while distracting the enemy!" Zina desperately demanded reinforcements through the battle net, while taking aim, determined not to waste her grenade. He sent it downrange, aimed at the APC – the tank looked too well armoured to disable with a single shot, and jumped back, hand grasping at her rig for a smoke grenade.

A blinding flash obscured the two enemy vehicles followed by a deafening thunderclap came in its wake. Cannon slugs screamed past the Corporal followed by a bolt of searing plasma hot enough to activate her shields by mere proximity as it burned through the mist and snow below. The three shots slammed into a more or less intact warehouse nearby and obliterated it, sending debris raining all over that part of the Docks.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**1 January 2011**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Gray smoke twisted and turned, painting everything it touched with dull metallic particles. Hot steam and freezing fog fought for dominance, creating up-drafts, high velocity chunks of metal tore away at the scorched and smoking street, which bleed melted glass and boiling snow. An engine roared as a tank build from scrap ground the asphalt into dust under its threads, while drugged merchants ran past it, screaming obscenities and shooting at everything that moved. Behind them followed a two story tall pile of trash melded into a Golem with a vaguely humanoid form. They left in their wake an APC with its front caved in, the driver's compartment smashed by a proton grenade, complete with a driver and a gunner leaking their life's blood down into twisted metal.

A single Mandalorian stood in their way, dashing through the smoke on the wings of her repulsor pod, while the two other intact members of the patrols dragged the wounded away. Corporal Jake was all right – or as all right one could be with their legs ending in seared stumps, sealed by clamped down armour. The Clone swam into painkillers and stimulants, barely feeling as his buddy dragged him across the asphalt. His friend pulled him away with one hand, while putting shot after shot downrange with his side-arm. Jake himself had lost his rifle when the particle beam cut him down, however now he had his buddy's gun and shot short burst at the approaching merchants, while his friend dragged him away to safety.

Sergeant Horst wasn't that lucky. While he did survive a brief encounter with the same weapon that crippled the Corporal, the particle beam burned though his shields and blasted away a large chunk of his armour, searing the under-layer into his flesh, and sending jagged shards of metal into his side. The last member of the small patrol had him on his back, held into a fireman's hold. The trooper did the only thing he could given the circumstances – ran as fast as he could towards the FOB, bit only after dumping his whole load of smoke grenades behind.

Bullets from ten different calibres scythed through the air, tore small craters into the asphalt, ravaged the sides of nearby buildings and occasionally pinged off shields and armour. Approaching sirens roared in the distance, unheard under the sounds of battle.

Corporal Quale loaded her last proton grenade into the grenade launcher slung under the barrel of her blaster rifle, dashed down, gliding under two streams of tracers – the loud cracks alone marked their source as either railguns or coilguns, and landed on one knee, shouldering her rifle to take aim. Zina hadn't been wrong to target the APC first – she had expended two of her remaining three proton charges at the tank, only to find out the hard way that the kriffing thing had shields too! Quale exhaled, pressed the trigger and the moment she felt the rifle butt hit her shoulder due to the recoil, she triggered her repulsors to glide right, straight through the missing wall of a nearby warehouse. Two railgun slugs struck her firing position, throwing geysers of dirt into the air, the plasma cannon followed suit, its shot boiling away a deep crater into the middle of the street, leaving a puddle of steaming glass at its bottom. The half-frozen and wet asphalt ignited from the thermal pulse, sending plumes of black smoke high into the air. The only surprise was that the unprotected infantry near the tank didn't burn as well due to their proximity to the cannon.

Kriffing tinkers, Zina thought, unwittingly sharing the opinion of countless Earthlings. She popped out of a broken window, shot an aimed burst at the enemy infantry, and sprinted towards the far end of the building without bothering to check if she hit someone or not. She battered her way through two thin walls and jumped out of the second floor before the tank turned her brief hiding place into a slice of hell. The plasma shot blew away most of the roof and large parts of three walls, while the thermal pulse created an inferno, which consumed everything that survived the initial blast.

"Do you like this, ya cunts? Come to papa Skiddy, I'll fuck you all long and hard!" Someone screeched from the tank.

"Control, Patrol Three, we've got Skidmark on site, he's in the kriffing tank! Would you kindly send someone to remove him before he blows me to tiny little pieces?!" Zina spoke tersely in her comm, while she flew around the burning warehouse to go back on the street, so she could land between her retreating unit and the enemy. She changed power-packs mid-flight and pulled a frag grenade from her harness. The Corporal threw the small cylinder straight through the flames, taking advantage of the strength boost provided by her armour. While the tank would be all right, which was unfortunate in the extreme, the same couldn't be said for the infantry.

A subdued detonation and a scream of pain announced that Zina did get someone with her grenade, bringing a brief smile to her face, before it twisted back into a mask of stubborn determination.

"Patrol Three, Central. Affirmative, target Skidmark is on the scene. Be advised, reinforcements are on the way and we've got air support spinning up, ETA for CAS, two minutes."

Zina consulted her HUD. Kole and the Sarge were almost half a click away. However, the icons of her other two teammates were too close for comfort and moving away slowly. A quick command brought up their status, revealing the reason – Private Black had his leg fucked up and couldn't move too fast. Jake's repulsor system was gone, while the Private's was damaged enough that he couldn't move both of them any faster by using it. It was sheer luck that Zina's own repulsorlift pod still worked, even if its status blinked yellow. As if the universe wanted to fuck with her, personally, the indicator changed colours even as she watched it from the corner of her eye, it turned angry orange – failure imminent. Quale landed in the middle of the street after dumping her last smoke grenade and cursed, when the repulsorlift pod died on her.

"Control, Patrol Three, be advised, I'm grounded and have two wounded attempting to exfiltrate. I'll distract the enemy for as long as possible, redirect the reinforcements to pick up Patrol Two and Five, Corporal Quale, over and out." Zina hissed in frustration.

Of all the times and places to die, a kriffing backwater world like this one, during a skirmish with gangers driving heavy armed armour of all things… it wasn't how she imagined she would go into the night. Quale screamed in anger and frustration, set up her armour to overload her shields and charged the enemy. Knowing that it was pointless to shoot at the tank, she concentrated on the infantry flanking it. If she lasted long enough to pick off all of those bastards, she would then give her undivided attention to the walking pile of trash stumbling behind them – that had to be Mush, the other confirmed Parahuman the Merchants had. This skirmish was likely to break the back of the gang, perhaps end it for good outright, however, that was going to be academic for Zina.

Her blaster rifle struck her shoulder again and again as she sprinted forward. Two railgun shots wheezed past her head, their very passage shaking her, then the plasma cannon aimed at her. Zina dropped, skidding over the shot up street just as the cannon barked at her. Superheated plasma flew above her head close enough to touch. Its passage stripped away her shields and seared away the ablative layers of her armour. The emergency cooling agent circulating between its layers boiled away in a desperate attempt to deal with the sudden monstrous spike of heat, drugs flooded her system, for some reason there was no pain, just overwhelming heat…

* * *

**=MK=**

A Dragon supplied drone, which she flew straight from her main production line in Ottawa to Brockton Bay, has been on station above the Docks since the late evening on the 31st. It caught the battle on high definition camera since its very beginning, providing a wealth of information to the PRT, Protectorate, US and Canadian governments, and the Guild as one might expect.

It focused its cameras upon the Mandalorian who had fended off a tinker made tank and more than a platoon worth of Merchants armed to the teeth for long, precious minutes. From the start it was obvious that the alien soldier simply lacked the firepower to take down the armour. The same powerful explosives, which wrecked the APC, that appeared with the tank had no effect upon the shielded vehicle. With each explosion, they merely tore apart a few of the Merchants acting as infantry support. The outcome of the skirmish became obvious the moment whatever the Mandalorian used to glide through the battlefield ceased to work, thus leaving the soldier alone on the ground as the only obstacle between the approaching tank and their wounded comrades trying to flee.

Six Protectorate heroes who raced towards the docks listened to Kid Win describe the battle from his station on the Console, the same was true for the troopers in the four vans that left PRT's HQ shortly after the battle began. None of them was going to make it in time, not that their presence would have made much of a difference. With that tank on the field, only two of Brockton Bay's heroes were likely to be effective – Armsmaster and Miss Militia, who doubted she could take it without escalating to previously unthinkable levels. If it wasn't for that shield…

"And they're done..." Kid Win spoke in a dull voice. "Watch out for that cannon – it missed the solder, if barely but the sheer proximity savaged their armour. They're looking like a charred wreck… I think I'm going to be sick..."

* * *

**=MK=**

"Do you like that, bitch!?" Skidmark exclaimed gleefully. He revved up the engine and pointed the tank straight at the cunt that gave him so much trouble. Who did they think they were? Alexandria? Heh, heh. "How does it feel, cunts?! I'm going to squish you like fucking bugs, then I'm going to fuck your corpses to death!" He screamed into the loudspeaker.

One of the flat screens around the driver's compartment pinged and showed three red dots materializing. Skidmark looked at them, then back at the cunt he was going to run over and squash like a tin can under the tank's treads.

Three armoured figures jumped over one of the few still somewhat intact buildings on the right side of the street and landed near the fried cunt. Two of them went to tend her, as if he was going to let them, while the last one calmly walked towards him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, you fucking cunt?" Skidmark sneered and grabbed the joystick controlling the main cannon. Targeting markers appeared on the nice, dumb cunt in front of the tank and he pressed the triggers. As always, the two railguns shot first, their cracks sending dull echoes through the hull. The plasma cannon spoke a few moments later, a second after Skidmark's stomach went straight in his throat as the whole tank jumped below him. It felt like Alexandria herself kicked him in the pants. The fuckity fuck just happened!?

* * *

**=MK=**

Aria knew that losing people was a fact of war, both from her Master's memories and bitter experience. It was an experience that the Dark Side generally made easy to live with at least when it wasn't too busy needling her to go get sweet, bloody vengeance. Nevertheless, Aria loathed losing people, she simply refused to deem those under her command expendable, no matter how strongly she felt about it afterwards or even when she had to make the bloody call.

The Confederacy created her to be a one shot expendable weapon against the Jedi. If it wasn't for her Master seeing something within her and granting her an act of mercy she didn't deserve, Aria would have died as a pawn. In fact, she knew she was meant to perish during the attack upon the Jedi Temple executed to liberate Count Dooku. What was worse, she was supposed to die as a mere distraction no less.

Yet, here she was years later – one of the most powerful women in the galaxy, because a single act of mercy. Because her Master didn't see her as expendable. You didn't win wars by sacrificing your own soldiers unless you absolutely had to. You did it by making the other bastards die for their cause, until their side broke. And some times, mercy shown to the enemy could be the weapon with the keenest edge. Aria was the living proof of that fact.

Those were the thoughts running through Aria's head, while she ran to reinforce the ambushed patrol. She couldn't help it but curse herself for not taking more precautions. Aria knew that tinkers might create devices, which were high above the local tech level. By the Force, she saw that mutated APC Squealer had built in action with her own two eyes!

Aria should have taken into account the possibility that said bitch had stashed more such vehicles in reserve, more dangerous variants too. She should have insisted that the patrols carry proper anti-tank weapons, instead of agreeing with the assessment that baring Lung, such firepower would be overkill against anything Brockton Bay could throw at their patrols.

She knew better, damn it! Aria cursed herself for a fool, grasped the Force and enhanced her speed. The troopers behind her followed her example by redlining their repulsorlift systems.

Aria half-ran, half-glided forward, drawing more and more power within herself. The distance was enough to allow her to slowly and methodically enhance herself into a juggernaut. The Force flowed through her veins, strengthening her flesh, enhancing her muscles. An invisible barrier appeared around her form, sharpening and solidifying. Her perception expanded, reaching the fast approaching battlefield. Her speed rose even further, thoughts raced faster than her brain should have been able to process. Aria flashed from rooftop to rooftop, moving in a blur.

She wasn't fast enough. She could see Corporal Quale go down, feel her burning, the lack of pain, which meant that too many of her nerves had been incinerated.

"Central, Starfire, I need a stasis pod at my location, now, damn it! Heavy One and Two, provide first aid. The Merchants are mine." Aria spoke in a voice cold enough to chill liquid hydrogen.

One last jump and the Sith landed between her fallen soldier and the approaching Merchants. The tank was heading their way, aiming to crush the Corporal under its tracks. The driver, Skidmark, sent curses at Aria, which simply slid over the edge of her fury. The tanks three turrets aimed at the Mandalorians and opened fire. Aria could already see what would happen, she simply had to push the Force and reality itself twisted under the weight of her will alone. The two railguns fired at he first and their slugs flew straight and true.

The shots missed anyway – pushed away by invisible force. Next came the plasma cannon, yet before it could discharge its fury, Aria shoved the whole tank up, sending the shot flying far and wide above the water of the bay. She had the armoured vehicle firmly within her grasp, at her non-existent mercy. Aria slammed it into the ground with enough force to shatter the asphalt and embed it half a metre into the soil below. She repeated that action once, twice, three times in a row, each time using more and more power.

The armour was tough, it barely dented from the impact. The equipment and men still inside, however? They weren't that fortunate. The shield generator fizzled out, its mounting and power coupling dislocated. The power feeds for the plasma cannon tore away from their contacts, leaving the mighty weapon without juice to fire. The railguns fared no better – their barrels were more fragile than the plasma cannon itself, not to mention that two of the strikes saw their turrets slam into the ground. The barrels deformed, power coils going out of alignment if not cracking or even breaking outright.

The ten odd Merchants acting as an infantry still on their feet didn't care about the fate of the tank, neither about their leader. They were all high up on combat drugs, angry and without fear.

A different Sith might have felt a spark of respect for the way they charged her. Aria? She simply sneered under her helmet. They needed to be made an example of. She charged them, hand flashing to her belt to pull out her lightsaber. Their bullets froze uselessly in mid-air, caught up by a telekinetic wall. Aria moved like a lighting, striking faster than the eye could follow. In her wake, cut off arms and legs flew in every direction, with charred torsos falling to the ground, wailing in agony despite all the drugs still racing through their veins. Within fifteen seconds, she had left ten crippled men and women behind.

Aria's brief rampage led her to land on top to the battered tank. The only 'credible' threat left was the trash Golem, which earned itself a disgusted scowl. Aria wasn't going any closer to that thing unless she absolutely had to.

The Sith deactivated her sabre and put it back in its place. Much took a step forward and that was as close as she allowed him to come. The Sith spread her arms wide and gladly drank from the poisoned well that was the Dark Side.

Cold power surged through her, burning hot as it raced through her body. Lighting danced on the tip of her fingers, it arched through her palms and then between her hands forming a half circle in front of her. A frosty smile graced Aria's lips, she pointed her hands at the Golem she froze in place by her will alone, and unleashed her power, making sure that those watching would catch every moment of it.

Dark purple, almost black tendrils of energy surged forward. They slammed into Mush's fake body, dug deeply into the trash and arched through it, spreading through every single piece that made the Golem's body. Deep within the pile, the real villain shook in agony. He opened his mouth in a soundless scream even as his trash armour began to burn and melt around him. Soon, only a tiny, dirty man remained. He hovered in mid air, spread like a fly impaled with a needle made of forking lighting. He convulsed as energy coursed through every cell of his body, lit up his pain centres, causing him more agony that the human nervous systems should have been able to endure, much less experience, yet he experienced every single agonizing moment of it. Mush could feel a stranger's iron will imposing itself upon his own, denying him the relief that would come with unconsciousness.

It was then, that Mush knew, he wouldn't be allowed the sweet release of death. He screamed without a sound, he pleaded, he cried, he begged.

The Sith didn't care. She drank his agony and despair as if they were the sweetest of wines.

"_Don't worry. What you feel is a cares compared to what we will do to Skidmark..." _A dark, pitiless voice whispered in his head, its very touch enough to crack Mush's mind beyond repair.

When Aria finally let the charred body go, Must was still alive if barely.

"Central, Starfire, we'll need a few more stasis pods for prisoners, please deliver them ASAP. Starfire, over." Aria spoke cheerfully, still flying high on the surge of euphoria the Dark Side ensured she experienced while displaying her dominance and feeding its wicked urges. When she looked at the damaged tank below her feet, and sensed Skidmark, she could taste her power's hunger and anticipation at what she was about to do to him.

Armoured alloy parted like water under her gaze, the Dark Side tearing it apart in its haste to get to the next victim on the menu. And there he was, Skidmark himself. When she dug him out and hoisted him up, holding him within a crushing telekinetic grip, Aria couldn't help it, and sneered in disgust at the sight.

Skidmark was a thin wiry man, with dark greying skin. His parched and cracked lips belonged to a man who had been stumbling long through the desert without a drop of water. Yellow jagged teeth stuck out from a mouth hanging open.

"Pathetic." Arai hissed.

Skidmark cracked open a bloodshot eye and sneered at her, whispering a curse. Blue glowing fields layered themselves all over his body, over the tank Aria stood upon. She could feel their presence, the way they tried to push her away, and she brought the full might of the Force upon them, shattering every single one of them. The fields dispersed into azure wisps of energy dancing in the air. Skidmark screamed furiously at her, levelling a litany of inventive curses at her even as he attempted to use his power, again. More force fields appeared, only for Aria to shatter them through overwhelming power. She saw it in his eyes – the sheer despair when his power broke and prove itself useless. It was so delicious...

It would have been so easy to squash him like a bug. Or perhaps to fry him, one nerve cluster at a time, tear his flesh strip by strip only to heal him and repeat the process, to keep him alive, screaming, for as long as she found it entertaining…

Aria shook her head. This was beneath her. Skidmark was beneath her. He would still die in the end. He would suffer for his arrogance in attacking _her _people. However, his death would have a meaning as well. He will be useful for once in his pathetic life. Darth Zash would love a new toy to experiment on, Aria decided. But first, she would get her pound of flesh. The Dark Side shook like an eager dog as Aria gathered it, shaped it like a fine scalpel and used her mind to guide it straight into Skidmark's consciousness.

Years of drug abuse had weakened his will. It was pathetically easy to break through his mental defences, what little there was left from them, without shattering his mind and frying his brain. Aria demanded answers, did someone put him up to this, did someone help him?

Places and names flashed in her head followed by faces – Skidmark was eager to obey, to make the pain go away. High profile clients, suppliers, moles within the PRT... Nothing of critical interest. Aria pushed the at the right places, twisted and shoved. Skidmark whimpered in despair, trapped within his head suffering a never ending cycle of his worst nightmares, experiencing as if they were real.

Aria smiled coldly at the job well done and patted her victim on the head using telekinesis, before she released her grip and let him fall to his knees with a heart-rending keen.

"Central, Starfire, area secured. Send a retrieval team with a shuttle to my location. We've got prisoners and tinkertech to police."

"Starfire, Central, affirmative. Retrieval team is already on board, we'll dispatch them momentarily. Be advised, we've got local law enforcement and emergency services approaching your position."

"Central, Starfire, I'll speak with them. Just make sure we've got Mush and Skidmark packed up and delivered back home. They're to be send to Lady Zash with my compliments."

"Starfire, Central, we'll ensure they're on their way as a priority. It couldn't happen to more deserving bastards."


	12. Chapter 6 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**PHP Interlude: Test run**

**=MK=**

* * *

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.  
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* * *

Topic: The Battle for Brockton Bay!  
In: Boards ► News ► National ► Brockton Bay  
Brocktonite03 (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (At Ground Zero: Brockton Bay)  
Posted On Jan 1st 2011:  
Holly shit! Do you know WTF is happening at the docks?! There are honest to God explosions over there! Are we getting invaded or something? I can see flashes of light all the way from Downtown, despite the heavy mist and snow! Whatever they're using is enough to rattle my widows! LINK attached - you can just see the shock-waves and fires! WTF?!

EDIT: Does this have something to do with that huge tinker aircraft that flew from the docks to the PRT Building yesterday?

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(Showing page 1 of 33)

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►Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)

Replied On Jan 1st 2011:

First! He, he... Um, what's up?

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►Space Zombie (Wiki Warrior) (At Ground Zero: Brockton Bay)

Replied On Jan 1st 2011:

I don't know what in God's name is happening down there, however we can clearly hear all the shooting and explosions over here! It sounds like someone just kicked off WW3! I'm working near the PRT Building and just saw Armsmaster drive out like bat out of hell, Miss Militia went out after him and as I'm typing, four PRT vans just raced out as well! Pictures here! LINK, LINK, and these are the vans - LINK! Whatever it is, it must be something major, with what we're hearing...

* * *

Whatever's happening out there just keep it as far away from the West Coast as you can, please! I can't take anymore of this bullshit!

►XxVoid_CowboyxX (At Ground Zero: Brockton Bay)

Replied On Jan 1st 2011:

It's the Sith! They're invading! I called it! I called it and you didn't believe me!

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►Char (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 1st 2011:

Damn it, XxVoid_CowboyxX, this is not the time for your usual bullshit! People might be dying over there!

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►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Jan 1st 2011:

Bloody hell, can't we get one day to recover after celebrating new year?! Brocktonites, I know you're trying to be the cape and villain capital of America, but isn't this too much...

Okay, now that I've got this out of my system and the coffee has kicked in, the hell? I just say a video on youtube, LINK, that's some pretty heavy artillery going off out there!

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 31, 32, 33

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(Showing page 31 of 33)

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►AllSeeingEye (The Girl in the Know) (Verified Cape) (At Ground Zero: Brockton Bay) (Welcomes our new alien overlords)

Replied On Jan 1st 2011:

I can shed some light on what happened earlier this evening. For those not in the know, I'm a local girl who recently found employment with some new friends - the PMC company, Mandalorian Knights. About six PM this evening, the Merchants decided to hit one of our patrols keeping our local base of operation safe from the local wildlife, you know, like the Merchants.

Skidmark and Mush led what appears to be every Merchant who could hold a gun to attack us. As if that wasn't enough, they decided to bring up a tank tinkered to hell and back - heavy armour, shields, plasma cannon, which was what caused those huge ass explosions and ravaged half the docks... Here are some pictures and short clips caught by helmet cameras - LINK,LINK, LINK. Right here you can see the tank firing its main gun, LINK, and here is one of our girls barely making it out alive from the building Skidmark blew up - LINK.

I've been authorized to make the following short statement by our acting commander, Aria Veil: The Merchants are no longer a concern.

I can confirm that Skidmark and Mush had been neutralized permanently and Squealer is currently missing, presumed dead. We've handled the ten surviving Merchant unpowered members to the PRT.

_AllSeeingEye, how did you get your last tag?! Attempting to hack the PHO forums is a bannable offense! - TinMother_

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►Answer Key

Replied On Jan 1st 2011:

I must echo Borcktoninte03, Holly Shit! That't wasn't cape stuff, it was real bloody war! It was fucking brutal! How did the Merchants get their hands on that fucking tank!

edit: What's with that tag, AllSeeingEye? Don't tell me you buy that shit about Star Wars being real. And those folks you work for - they could have chosen a better name considering all the jokes going around since last night... don't tell me, was all that a PR stunt to promote them?

_Answer Key, do watch your language and enjoy fifteen infraction points. - TInMother_

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►AllSeeingEye (The Girl in the Know) (Verified Cape) (At Ground Zero: Brockton Bay) (Welcomes our new alien overlords)

Replied On Jan 1st 2011:

TinMother - that would be telling!

Joke's on you, Answer Key. I'll laugh when the other shoe drops.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 31, 32, 33

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**1 January 2011**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Among the heroes and PRT troopers racing towards the battle raging at the docks, only Armsmaster had access to live feed from Dragon's drone. He always knew Skidmark and his ilk would one day do something everyone would regret, while high as kites on whatever drug took their fancy. However, not even in his darkest nightmares did he expect that the damn fool might just doom his city, if not the whole country. Perhaps the planet while he was at it.

Frustration built as he dashed in between traffic crawling slowly over wet and snow covered streets. What he saw from the Mandalorians, well it wasn't _that _impressive... until you thought about it. Their gear wasn't painstakingly built to be the best, unique and as efficient as possible. Those were mercenaries, so the odds were excellent that their equipment was mass produced, wildly available and outclassed by what the actual military had. It was obviously tough, rugged and dangerous. Armsmaster had to remind himself that he wasn't watching capes in action, instead a very rough equivalent of a PRT squad, who just got ambushed by multiple tinker made armoured and heavy armed vehicles. While they weren't winning, the Mandalorians did extract their pound of flesh. So far, a large part of the Merchant's unpowered members were dead, two of their three tinker vehicles were gone. While Mush was intact, and Skidmark and Squealer were likely in the tank, the gang was spent. Unless they ran now and the tinkertech within the armoured vehicle allowed them to escape retribution, the gang would be done for, today. The only question was who would reach them first – Mandalorian reinforcements of the Protectorate heroes.

Armsmaster himself had counter-measures for all kind of tinkertech he carried on his person at all times, even more built into his bike. Miss Militia had the firepower to take out that tank, force field or not, though it would be for the best if he dealt with the shield first, otherwise the collateral damage would be extreme. The hero saw the tank fire, again, and another building went up in bright flames. He saw the last fighting Mandalorian dash into the open and stand before the tank and their retreating comrades. Armsmaster knew how that was going to end. He had been there, fighting a desperate holding action to buy just few more precious seconds in hopes that someone could either take out the threat or evacuate the wounded behind him.

He wasn't wrong – Mandalorian reinforcements reached the battle first, led by the suspected Sith. _The Sith, _moments after she arrived, there was no longer any doubt about it – neither about her having powers, nor about what she was. Heroes didn't dismember unpowered people, even if they were gang-members if they had an acceptable alternative, and it was obvious that Aria Veil didn't need to be so brutal. She tore them apart within second, she could have knocked them all out with the same amount of effort.

As he watched the slaughter, Armsmaster catalogued what he saw, his mind spinning to create a realistic threat assessment. At least mid level brute on account to the power armour alone, mover – 2 to 4, at least, against just because of said armour's capabilities. Stricker – control of lighting, medium range telekinesis, high levels, so at least 5 or 6. She could move at least twenty or thirty ton vehicle, at a minimum, with her mind as if it was a toy. Thinker – potential extrasensory perception, combat precognition, at a minimum. Low-balling it – 3 to 4 on the scale.

All that and almost certainly more, condensed into a small, mean, and blue package. Yesterday, Armsmaster would have attemptted to arrest that woman for use of excessive force if nothing else, not to mention being wanted for questioning over the open warfare in his city. Today, however? He might have to grovel, in order to persuade her not to tear down the rest of the city, while tracking any Merchants smart enough not to commit suicide by aliens.

"Dragon, do we have reinforcements available if things escalate?" Armsmaster inquired. "The Sith might decide to burn down the city around us in retaliation, barring that, tear it apart looking for any unaccounted for Merchants."

"A quick response team is assembling in LA. Strider should be available to bring them in within the hour. Legend and Alexandria are ready to deploy if necessary, however I have no idea where Eidolon went." Dragon answered. "Colin... be careful." She added in an odd tone.

"I always am, you know that." He responded. One more left turn and he entered the docks. Even from here – practically the far side from the battlefield, he could clearly see the horizon being painted orange and black by out of control fires and smoke. During his approach, he head and saw a large dark shape fly above the Docks, heading towards the battlefield. It took him a few more minutes to reach the site, only to be stopped by perimeter security – Mandalorians in large suits of power armour carrying heavy weapons – from missile launchers to cannons, which wouldn't be out of place as the main armament of a tank. One of their shuttles circled above, looking for trouble.

"Armsmaster?" The closest Mandalorian asked.

"Yes."

"Commander Veil will see you now. This way." The soldier nodded at him and waved him to follow.

From up close, the docks looked like a slice of hell – as if Behemoth itself had visited them. Ruined buildings lined up the street, many of them still burning. The street itself was shredded – lasers, bullets, high-velocity rounds, burning plasma and more made it resemble the surface of the moon. Then there were the craters filled with cooling glass...

Soon they reached the Merchant vehicles, and the bodies. Corpses littered the location, where this insanity began. Armsmaster knew from experience that not all the poor charred bastards were lucky enough to perish quickly. He had seen similar things against Behemoth and a few villains before.

They arrived at the place where the battle concluded in time to see Mandalorians load Skidmark into some kind of pod, seal it up and haul it on board of a second shuttle, which floated near the wrecked tank.

Armsmaster grit his teeth, bitting off a retort and pushing back his knee-jerk reaction. This was his city, his jurisdiction! Now that Skidmark was neutralized, the Mandalorians should be handing him to the proper authorities. One glance at the Sith, who had removed her helmet and looked around with red eyes, full with dancing golden lights, told him enough – making a play for the captured villain was going to end only one way.

"Ms Veil." Armsmaster nodded, playing for time to decide how he should play this. "I'm sorry for your losses."

"We appreciate it. With a bit of luck, the wounded will recover. Only one is critical, we'll be able to heal up the other three given enough time."

"In that case, perhaps we might offer assistance? Brockton Bay is the residence of Panacea, the best healer on the planet. While she usually does not accept requests, she tends to help if the Protectorate needs her assistance."

"I'll keep your offer in mind, Armsmaster."

"What do you intent to do with your prisoners?"

"You can have those." Aria waved dismssivelly at the gang-members she butchered. "We're keeping Skidmark and Mush. They're responsible for this mess and they will reap their just reward."

"I see." Armsmaster was almost certain he didn't want to know what was in store for those two fools. "Do you intent to retaliate further?"

"I'm still considering it. To the best of my knowledge, we destroyed the Merchants as a viable organization tonight, though we'll know for certain once Intelligence has had heart to heart with their leaders."

"Speaking for the PRT and Protectorate, we'll appreciate if we can avoid this," He waved empathically at the war torn landscape, "from repeating itself in a more populated part of the city, at all really."

"We were attacked by your problem children, Armsmaster, and our people merely defended themselves. I even gave you the courtesy of not sending out patrols carrying heavy weapons. Because of that, I have a solder who needs to replace his feet, another one with moderate internal injuries and a third in critical condition – she'll need months of treatments and extensive cybernetics to recover. Make sure to keep your criminal element on a short leash and we won't have to go out and make a proper example why people shouldn't kriff with us."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**1 January 2011**

**Mandalorian Knight's FOB**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

"Back in the day, I've seen some frankly amazing vehicles and weapons built from scrap." Veil reminiscent aloud after hearing Aria's preliminary briefing. "They all had one thing in common though, said scrap came from advanced civilizations. I might have to go visit our first tinker asset in person."

"Do give her our heartfelt regards, Master." Aria grumbled.

"Don't worry, I'll make her an offer she couldn't possibly refuse."

"Good. What about my request?"

"We'll have to get back your Corporal for full examination and quarantine to ensure there are neither complications, nor unpleasant surprises left behind by that healer." Veil mused. "You have provisional approval. Observe Panacea's healing and put your observations in your next official report."

"Do you plan to grab her if she proves herself uncommonly useful?" Aria asked.

"Let's leave such rash actions in reserve. Do investigate her family and friends, seek weak points we might exploit. We're not the Sith of old, Apprentice. Malicious actions aren't our first choice, unless they're the appropriate response. Make a deal if practical, offer bribes, have someone seduce the girl and bring her here to sight-see, I'm sure we can give her good reasons to prolong her stay and make it productive for everyone involved."

"I hear you loud and clear, Master. Grabbing her is last resort. You know, I kind of miss the war. Things were simpler then." Aria mumbled.

"For some of us, it was anything but simple, Apprentice. I'll make sure Zash will get her new toys, with your compliments of course. You do know she might ask, nay, demand more, right?" The Dark Lord chuckled at Aria's poleaxed expression. "You didn't consider that angle, did you?"

"I just wanted to keep her happy and as far away from me as practical. Isn't she busy driving Tano up the wall?"

"Our dear Snips is busy dealing with her new command. If it comes to it, we'll send her to reinforce you, so she'll have to ensure Eleventh Army shapes up even faster than expected."

"Didn't Kenobi rebuild them just a few moths ago?" Aria wondered. The last she heard, Eleventh Army distinguished itself during multiple sieges in the Mid Rim, which enjoyed positive outcomes, resulted in a formation mauled so bad that it had to be stood down, with the survivors sent to fill up the ranks of other armies.

"Precisely. Eleventh just got its full compliment of officers, a month ago, NCOs and Enlisted personnel are still pouring in to fill up the ranks. We don't expect them to be field deployable for a minimum of three to six months. Too many raw recruits just out of basic, too many green officers and NCOs without combat experience." The Dark Lord of the Sith shook his head. "Unless we absolutely have to, we won't be throwing green formations into the fire again."

Like they had to do during the Black Rebellion, repeatedly and with predictably bloody results.

"In that case, I won't plan for Force Adept reinforcements in the foreseeable future." Aria concluded.

"We might send you a few promising Apprentices from Secura's latest class, depending on the security situation on Earth Bet. They could certainly use some hands on experience, however they will be even less expendable than your other subordinates."

"You want me to babysit snot nosed Jedi-wanables?"

"None of that, Apprentice. They're Imperial Knights, well Knight Errants, anyway. You know very well that there are no more Jedi within the Empire." Veil gave her a familiar exhasperated look. "Knights, Apprentice." He repeated firmly.

"I listen and obey, My Master." Aria offered an exgagerated bow.

"You know, back in the day, I would have to had you on the ground, writhing in pain, and screaming your lungs out for such disrespect."

"Anything less would have been a sign of weakness, I know, Master. Isn't this new age great?" Aria grinned.

"Off with you, don't you have a soldier to heal and a healer to recon?"

"As my Msater bids, so shall I do."

"Aria, please cease butchering the old forms. My patience most certainly isn't infinite." For a brief and fleeting moment, Aria's chest constricted, and she found her breath taken away. A heartbeat later, the sensation was gone, replaced by a surge of bone deep chill as the Dark Side flowed through her unbidden.

"I'll be good, Master." This time, there was nothing exgagerated in the deep and respectful bow she offered.

"See that you are, Apprentice." Veil cut off the connection from his end and the Dark Side retreated when his holographic image vanished.

"One day, my big mouth will get me in so much trouble..." Aria groaned. "Captain, get me a shuttle ready and call Lisa, I want to know if the local healer, Panacea, is working today and if so, where. Once she's done, have Lisa report to me. I'll be at the medical station seeing to the wounded."

* * *

**=MK=**

But of course, on top of being terrifyingly dangerous, the Sith could heal too. Star Wars didn't prepare her for this bullshit, Lisa lamented. She stood just outside the small, but ridiculously advanced medical station, observing humanoid and spider-like droids tend to the wounded under the hawkish eyes of an actual doctor. So far, Lisa had gathered only bits and pieces of the history of these people. What she could figure out was they no longer explicitly trusted droids and it wasn't because their enemy fielded armies of them during the Clone Wars they fought. However, no one she had met was eager to open up about the actual reason – the so called Black Rebellion, and Lisa had the sense not to push the dangerous combat veterans about what might have been their trigger event if they were capes.

Who said she wouldn't know tact even if it hit her between the eyes with four by four?

"Lisa, walk with me." The Sith whispered in her ear, making the teen jump with a squeal.

Lisa looked around wildly, and sure enough, Aria was no longer in the Med Bay, instead she was heading towards her small makeshift office at the back of the converted warehouse. Lisa scurried after the Sith – she wouldn't have wanted to give Aria any reason to be cross with her even before she saw what she was actually capable of. Now that she got a taste of it, fortunately not first hand, and her power hinted that the woman had still held back, Lisa was more than eager to please than ever before.

"Amy Dallon, Panacea, New Wave. What do you know about them? Any weaknesses to exploit, what can we offer her in order to not only heal the Corporal, but agree to visit our galaxy."

This demand brought her short. It was certainly better than telling her to help plan Panacea's kidnapping, though not by much. There were decent odds that if she went through the breach, Amy Dallon wouldn't be going back – that conclusion was obvious to Lisa.

"New Wave are independent heroes, the only Capes open with their identity who aren't Case 53's, formerly the Brockton Bay Brigade..." Lisa began reciting common knowledge, while pushing her power for hints – both about Panacea and New Wave, and her employers' intentions. "I haven't met them in person, neither have I researched them in depth..." The thinker continued.

"Then you'll accompany me when we go to meet Panacea. Whatever you do, do not antagonize her, nor her family unless it would help push the healer into our camp." Aria ordered.

"Do I need to know what is this about?" Lisa inquired.

"I can speculate." The Sith smirked at her. "But I won't."

"Panacea is likely to be at one of the hospitals tomorrow. Possibly Brockton General. The PRT might want her to consult about what you did to the Merchant's foot soldiers."

"Do your thing, find where and when she'll be and we'll go to meet her."


	13. Chapter 6 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**2 January 2011**

**Brockton General**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Amy walked briskly through the corridors of the hospital, biting her lower lip while looking away from her sister. Vicky looked even more radiant than usual floating a couple of steps behind, babbling about the latest icky boy she wanted her to meet. It was both endearing and frustrating to have her sister practically attached to her hip in case some other villains went insane and brought open warfare to the hospital.

What happened yesterday was just the Merchants stumbling into some new very potent drugs, surely? No one else in the city was insane enough to repeat their stunt? As far as she knew from listening to Carol discuss it with the rest of New Wave, the Merchants were done for after yesterday. Most of their regular members were either death or in this hospital, cut to pieces. Their capes - captured and in the custody of that new PMC based at the docks, and didn't their mere presence put a beehive up her 'mother's ass...

"Did you have to drag us out here this early, Ames?" Vicky complained, changing her tune.

"There are sick and injured people who can't wait for your beauty sleep." Amy snarked back, even if deep down she would have preferred that the whole world waited until Vicky had all the beauty sleep she wanted, provided that she was in bed with her, preferably sans clothes... mmm... Amy bit the inside of her cheek, glanced at her sister's profile, which as always looked divine. She snapped head away so she could lick her lips in a silent moan without being seen. God, she was such a deviant...

"I know, Ames, it's just that..." Vicky grumbled.

"Just what?"

"It's Sunday, the second darn day of the new year! We should be warm in bed, munching on snacks and watching something fun, not out here..."

Thinking about exactly what she would want to taste, Amy went scarlet and hurried up down the corridor. She still appeared quite flushed, when she reached the police and PRT agents keeping a watch on the wounded. Miss Militia stood nearby, leaning on a wall and holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, while her power lazily shifted from one weapon into another within her right palm.

"Panacea, thank you for coming." Miss Militia's eyes crinkled into a smile. "We'll appreciate if you can consult on this one."

"What exactly happened? Who is hurt?" Amy went all business, trying to forget what she wanted to do with Vicky, damn hormones!

"You've heard about the 'Battle of Brockton Bay' as the PHO dubbed it,I thrust?" The older heroine asked.

"Of course we did!" Vicky nodded eagerly. "We were already on our way, when your Director called mom and she and Aunt Sarah made us go back. What was that about? Mom's been grumpy ever since that talk?"

"It's complicated and this isn't the best place to discuss it. Let me just say that if you meet any power armoured people walking around, do not engage them under any circumstances."

"What?!" Vicky exclaimed scandalized and her aura flared. "Why not? Who are they?!"

"Vicky, aura!" Amy snapped, wondering when, or better if, her sister would finally learn. She loved her to bits, but sometimes she was just insufferable. At least Dean wasn't around today, small mercies...

"As I just said, ladies, this isn't the time, neither the place for this particular conversation. I can fill you in later, if we can get somewhere more secure." Miss Militia chided. "Panacea, we would like you to examine some victims from yesterday's battle and tell us your conclusions about their wounds and general condition. We suspect that they were all on some very potent drug to do what they did. It was downright insane even for the Merchants."

"I'll say! Open warfare on the streets, with thanks, those huge ass aircraft, whole buildings going up in flames! What the ever loving hell happened yesterday? PHO is going nuts, as usual, and its light on details!" Vicky exclaimed, though fortunately she remembered to keep her aura in check, this time anyway.

Miss Militia muttered something too quietly for the sisters to hear. "A taste of things to come, I fear." She added just loud enough to be heard. "Panacea, if you will?" The Protectorate heroine led them to the nearest ICU room, where they found a dismembered woman hooked up to all kinds of machines meant to keep her alive.

"What the hell?" Amy exclaimed.

"The Merchants bit off more than they could chew." Miss Militia explained. "There are six more like her, four other perished overnight due to the tinker sourced drugs they took."

"Do I have permission to treat her?" Amy asked and went for the chart hanging from the front of the bed. Both arms and legs amputated by hot energy blade, exotic chemicals running through her veins and her brain was showing very high activity too.

"You do. They're all prisoners under PRT custody. As the highest ranking Protectorate hero on site, I do give you permission to heal this woman and the other prisoners if you so desire." Miss Militia stated formally.

"Good." Amy muttered, put back the chart and went to touch the woman's cheek. Her power came alive and flooded her mind with a wealth of information. Four wounds caused by extreme yet focused and controlled source of heat - very little heat damage beyond the area of contact, some exotic effect was likely in play. The chemicals racing through the woman's veins were even more interesting, Amy had never seen something like that. What they did... yeah, she could see why the druggies went all crazy. The best Amy could describe that particular cocktail of chemicals was 'combat drugs'. Enhanced strength, higher metabolism, better reflexes, suppressed fear response, increased aggression, all at the price of burning the woman up to fuel said benefits.

Her brain was the most fascinating. It was on overload as her it struggled to process conflicting commands - aggression and suppressed fear responses fought with overwhelming terror. At that rate, she was going to stroke out sooner rather than later.

"I can't do much for the bits and pieces she lost, I don't have enough to work with." Amy said aloud. "However, I should be able to purge her from the drugs and keep her alive." On the bright side, this was the most interesting case she had had in ages and her power sang in joy as she went on to deal with all the chemicals.

"That's good to hear." Miss Militia nodded in appreciation. "Panacea, I know this is irregular, however I must put forth a request from the PRT..."

"I'm always willing to heal Protectorate Heroes." Amy muttered absent mindedly.

"The person in question isn't one of ours, neither is she a hero..." Miss Militia admitted.

"Whoa! Wait a minute! Do you want Ames to heal a villain outside of truce?" Victoria explained. "Or one who isn't under arrest?"

"Vicky, you do know that there's that little thing called the Hippocratic Oath?" Amy grumbled at her sister putting her feet straight into her mouth... and better not go there, she decided when that thought brought others, about Vicky's very long and nice legs...

"Not a villain, nor a cape,if that's what has you concerned, Glory Girl. As I already said, everything that happened yesterday is complicated. All I'm asking is to talk with me at a secure location where we won't be overheard. I'll explain what I can and let you decide."

"I'll take it under advisement. I'll need to see the other prisoners once I'm done here. If they're in the same condition, they won't last until the evening. Those drugs are burning them from within..." Amy explained and lost herself within her craft.

=MK=

A few hours later, Amy felt tired, yet better than she had in a long while. All of the prisoners had taken different tinker made drugs, which while had similar benefits, the way they achieved them and the drawbacks, which were nasty in the extreme in every case, were different, making it for an interesting challenge to deal with.

"Whoever made those drugs is an evil genius." Amy grumbled. "Emphasis on evil." While she could appreciate dealing with something new and interesting for a change, she wasn't blind to the implications of those combat drugs, much less the harm they caused to everyone who took them.

"We noticed." Miss Militia commiserated. "Do you want to talk now or later?"

"I can use a bite to eat first..." Amy began to say when she saw Miss Militia stiffen like a board and grasp her right ear, which was hidden by her hair.

"Repeat that? How did they get here without any warning? How could no one notice twenty metres long aircraft flying over the city?!"

"What's going on?!" Vicky demanded.

Miss Militia merely raised a hand to fend off Glory Girl's questions and continued to listen to her radio. "I'm with Panacea and Glory Girl. I'll fill them up as much as I can before they arrive. Yes, I'll make it perfectly clear that our visitors are not to be provoked any further."

"Really?" An unfamiliar voice asked cheerfully.

A Cape 53, who was a dead ringer for a Chis from Star Wars stood nearby accompanied by a teenage blond cape wearing a purple bodysuit, which hugged her figure in all the right places.

"Ms Veil, its good to see you again." Miss Militia put on a forced smile - that much was obvious even to Amy.

"Miss Militia, we decided to take Armsmaster's offer into advisement. And you must be Panacea. I've heard some fascinating things about you." The blue woman smiled kindly at her.

The blond cape on the other hand, she smiled too, like a fox who just found a way into a chicken coop.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**2 January 2011**

**Brockton General**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Aria felt Panacea's emotional turmoil long before she saw the slip of a girl. Her sister's too - Glory Girl was a twisted knot of emotions, fear, frustration and anger being the most prominent of the lot. Those feelings burned brightly, flaring up to overshadow everything else the floating heroine felt - like being overprotective of her sister and caring a great deal for Panacea, as a sibling. It was too bad that what the healer felt herself was anything but a sibling's love.

The Sith could work with this, especially once she compared notes with Lisa. The key to Panacea was he sister, that much was already glaringly obvious. Now the only question was how to play it in the long run... But first things first, Aria was here for a reason and she needed to see firs-hand if Panacea was worth her personal attention.

"Tattletale, stop looking at Panacea as if you want to eat her. You'll need to take her out on a few dates and at least buy her a dinner first." Aria chided lightly. Her words earned her three pairs of wide open eyes staring at her,an a pair of hanging jaws for good measure.

Glory Girl was first to recover, while her sister looked positively mortified at the revelation. Lisa clamped her mouth shut and gave the Sith an incredulous look. The only one who kept their composure was Miss Militia who merely raised an eyebrow at the exchange, yet remained silent and waited to see how would events unfold.

"That explains so much!" Instead of getting offended, Glory Girl snapped her forehead with a loud crack. "Ames! You've been holding out on me!" Victoria accused. "That's why all those dates I've set you up with went down in flames!" She nodded at herself. "Perhaps you'll like to go out with Amanda? I know she swings both ways..."

"I don't want to know how you know that..." Panacea muttered, blushing bright scarlet. She couldn't decide if she should glare at the Case 53 or try to see if the ground would swallow her if she wished it strong enough.

"Tattletale here could also use a female friend or two her age. Perhaps a tripple date," Aria suggested only half joking.

"I do like boys you know!" Lisa spluttered, in no small part, because she didn't want to become Collateral Damage Barbie's newest victim.

"Keep telling yourself that. While this is fun, we certainly didn't come here to poke a few of the resident heroes."

"Who are you, anyway?" Panacea asked in a desperate attempt to change the topic.

"Do you want us to explain exactly who and what we are in here, Miss Militia?" Aria asked.

"Better not. There's enough speculation already and Washington isn't ready to make a public announcement." Miss Militia glanced at Tattletale.

"I got clearance to share as much as I did." Lisa shrugged off the unspoken accusation.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is happening?" Glory Girl snapped.

"Not here in the open." Miss Militia countered.

"We might get up to our shuttle. We won't be overheard, it would led some credence to the wild tale of our origin and if Ms Panacea decides to follow through on our request, she'll be able to examine the patient in person."

"You brought your wounded soldier? Isn't that dangerous?" Miss Militia demanded.

"She is still in a stasis pod, she'll be stable for at least a week. The danger will be when we pop her out - if we can stabilize her for long enough to begin to heal she should live and eventually recover." Aria explained.

Finally, something clicked in Amy's head. "You fought the Merchants yesterday!" She explained. "One of you butchered all those prisoners."

"All things considered, I displayed a commendable amount of restrain." Aria admitted.

"Whatever you're, Miss Militia is right, you're no heroes!" Glory Girl stared suspicious at the Sith and Tattletale. Her aura flared up only for two voices to snap at her.

"Vicky!" "Glory Girl, cease now!" Panacea and Miss Militia demanded.

While Lisa flinched at the sudden onslaught of fear crashing upon her, Aria's pleasant smile simply widened. "Fascinating..." She muttered.

"Ames isn't going anywhere with them!" Glory Girl stated.

"That would be for her to decide." Aria countered. "I can assure you, we can make it worth her while." The Sith smiled. "I understand that you refuse to be paid for your services and volunteer them, is that right, Panacea?"

Amy nodded firmly.

"In that case, I won't offer you riches beyond your widest dreams, something that Miss Militia can confirm we can deliver. How about a donation of advanced medical equipment to this hospital? How does that sound?"

Amy opened her mouth to refuse, her services weren't for sale, then the offer and the implication of it registered, and she looked at Miss Militia.

The Protectorate hero suppressed her desire to sight at being used in such a manner. She didn't dare lie either - anything to risk the fragile relationship between the Protectorate and the newcomers would be sheer madness.

"Ms Veil is telling the truth, Panacea. She has access to significant resources and she can provide this hospital with advanced medical technology if she so desires. The PRT and Protectorate will be meeting with a representative from her people tomorrow to discuss trade. Medical equipment would be one of the items on the agenda, as Ms Veil could probably guess."

"I'll ask again, who the hell are you people?!" Glory Girl demanded, her anger and frustration coming to the surface in force.

"Come to the rooftop and we'll tell you." Lisa suggested. "I'll prefer no to complicate the PRT's lives any more unless absolutely necessary. We already said more than it is prudent where we could be overheard."

"I think we should go." Panacea thought aloud. "I doubt they will try to harm us with Miss Militia present."

"We have no ill intentions towards you, Panacea. Your expertise is simply the best chance one of my subordinates has to live." Aria told the truth - from a certain point of view, anyway. Well, all what was truth and what was lie, often depended on where you stood and what you believed in anyway. It wasn't like she actually uttered a single lie...

"I'll do my best to keep things civil." That was all Miss Militia said. The heroine doubted she would be able to fend off the Sith if she decided to grab Panacea and make herself scarce. Then again, if the Mandalorians wanted the healer, Miss Militia didn't believe that they would be able to keep her out of their hands with available assets anyway. She did call Console to apprise them of the situation and where they were headed.

The small group walked in silence to the elevator and soon found themselves on the room with the Assault Shuttle floating nearby. "Do you wan to talk here, in the cold, or back in the cargo compartment, where its warm and we can sit down?" Lisa asked. "I vote for the later."

"What if its a trap?" Glory Girl stubbornly asked.

Aria gave Miss Militia a pointed look and at that moment, the Protectorate Hero hated her for forcing her to admit the truth aloud. "Glory Girl, if they wanted to grab either you, your sister or both, I doubt that either of us could stop them."

"It's a good thing that my employers are playing nice these days." Lisa interjected unhelpfully.

"That's not making me any more likely to enter that thing!" Vicky growled.

"Raptor One, open the ramp, we'll be having a quiet conversation in the back. Remain on station once we're on board." Aria called into her comm.

The ramp lowered, revealing the cargo compartment and a single coffin shaped pod bolted to the floor near the cockpit. Aria jumped in, making it seem easy and looked out at the capes. "Are you coming or not."

Lisa followed, waiting for the ramp to fully descend and almost touch the helicopter landing pad. "We won't be in any more danger inside than we are now." Miss Militia said, hoping that she had read the situation right.

"Ames, no!" Glory Girl exclaimed after Panacea walked in after the heroine. "I'm willing to listen if for no other reason, because I know how much new equipment this hospital alone needs."

Within couple of minutes they sat - Tattletale and the Chiss on one side, Glory Gir, Pancea and Miss Militia sitting across them.

"Do you want to do the honours or should I make the proper introductions?" Aria asked the Protectorate heroine, pointedly ignoring how Lisa squirmed in her seat, obviously wanting to be the one to do it.

"Panacea, Glory Girl, a week or so ago, we made first contact with visitors from another dimension, this time it wasn't an alternative Earth." Miss Militia began. She explained what they knew about the Mandalorians, the Federated Empire, and exactly who the Chiss look-alike was an actual Chiss.

"You brought her in here to be trapped in with a Sith?!" Glory Girl jumped up, floating in the air.

"A very well behaved Sith!" Tattletale quipped and even get away with it!

"Now you know, Panacea. I'm not joking when I say I have access to resources beyond your widest dreams and medical technology significantly better than anything Earth Bet has widely available."

"Yet you need my help." Amy sounded confused. Despite what PHO claimed and all the rumours ans speculations surrounding yesterday's battle, she found the truth hard to swallow. If it wasn't for Miss Militia and the fact that the PRT and Protectorate obviously believed it, she would have dismissed the very idea as a bold lie!

"Go take a look. You can see some of the damage through the transparent cover." Aria nodded at the stasis pod.

Panacea raised an eyebrow at that, got up, passing by her sister, who looked stunning when angry, down girl, she told herself, and went to the metal coffin. One look through the canopy was enough to tell her that the victim should be either death or well on the way there. Without a cape healer or some exotic medical tinkertech, the woman would die for sure.

"You say you can potentially heal her anyway?" Amy found herself asking. "And provide Brockton General with the technology that might make it possible?"

"Along with training, spare parts and maintenance. Your industrial base simply isn't set up to build any components that might breaks." Which shouldn't be happening anytime soon anyway.

So that was how it felt to debate with yourself if you should make a deal with the devil, Amy thought. She shook as if struck, once the implications hit - if this really wasn't a cruel hoax, and advanced medical technology could spread wide enough, it would largely make her obsolete, she wouldn't need to heal up so many people... She both loathed the idea and felt giddy by the possibility.


	14. Chapter 7 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Mandalorian Knights FOB**  
**Docks**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

"This concludes my official report." Aria concluded. She already sent it last night, and it came as no surprise that her Master, Bo-Katan and Minister Yomaget called her as soon as they could free their respective schedules in order to meet her in person, so to speak. Their holographic busts floated above her desks, listening carefully and judging her words. "As far as I know, the few people who might match Asset Panacea at healing are long dead. They were all very powerful Force Adepts with incredible talent in healing. From all accounts, even they couldn't heal as many people for as long, as Asset Panacea can as a matter of course."

"Most fascinating." Yomaget agreed. "If we can examine her work more closely and replicate her talents..." Mandal Motors would profit mightily, and the Freehold as well - both through taxes and politically because one of its corporations making the potential breakthrough.

"At this time, we won't be grabbing the kid to be experimented upon." Mandalore raised a hand in a forestalling gesture. "If we play our cards right, we can haver her happy eating out of our hand and working for us, or with us, willingly. Doing so sidesteps many potential political complications I can foresee."

"You intent to use her as a PR asset too." The Financial Minister concluded.

"The greatest healer on humanity's lost home world, who has come forth to aid the galaxy at large due to our efforts? Billions would lap it up, trillions if we play it up the right way." The Dark Lord of the Sith smiled.

Horus Yomaget glanced at his leader. It was moments like these that underlined how radically different Mandalore was compared to the tales about the Sith of ages past. His 'soft' side, merely hid how dangerous he could be until he decided to let his true nature show.

"I understand that Ms Dallon actually pursues a medical Doctorate, in order to better understand and utilize her power?" Bo-Katan asked.

"That's right. She has breezed through various courses and as far as we can figure out given the time available, she'll have it sooner rather than later. By the coming summer on Earth Bet - about six months on the outside."

"Do offer her schkollarship at one of our medical universities." Bo-Katan suggested. "It won't hurt at any rate and putting her in one of our teaching hospitals where her talents could be best monitored sounds like a good idea to me."

"I'll introduce her to the possibility." Aria agreed. "Any other suggestions or orders?"

"Just make sure no one kidnaps or murders my Sales Representative. I'm sending one of my better people to negotiate." Horus requested. No matter their official posts, he wasn't going to try to order a Sith around, even if they acted uncommonly sane and reasonable these days. He made the mistake of underestimating Veil once, he wasn't going to do it again, neither repeat that same mistake against someone Mandalore deemed worth to be his Apprentice. "He'll arrive in couple of hours along with the supplies you and Captain Terrin requested."

"We'll keep him mostly intact. Am I to understand that I have authorization to expand our operation in Brockton Bay?" Aria asked for a clarification.

"You're right. If we pull out of the city after the attack upon your patrol, it would be seen as an act of weakness. Horus' Rep will negotiate for both a large plot of land outside the city to turn into a proper logistics base for the continent and to buy as much of the docks and the ship graveyard as possible." Bo-Katan explained. "We'll increase our presence in that city - it is rather out of the way, on the small side as well. It can serve as a good location to familiarize our people with the local culture, once you've stabilized the security situation."

"Any changes in my orders on that front?"

"Not at this time. Gather Intel, complete your other objectives. If attacked, retaliate with overwhelming force." Mandalore's word on that front was final. "More orders will follow, when we receive more information from our prisoners." Her Master added.

"By all accounts, Brockton Bay is one of the most troubled cities on the continent. It would serve as good advertisement for Horus' Knights if they manage to bring back the rule of law to that place." Bo-Katan chuckled. "From what I've seen, there will be long lines of our people raring to go to either simply prove themselves, or hunt down some of the more dangerous denzines of Earth Beth, both for profit and honour."

"I can see something like that happening. The locals won't necessary like it." Aria pointed out.

"Many such targets would be outside of the jurisdiction of the local government you'll be primary dealing with, what we do outside of their borders is not their concern." Veil said.

While he didn't say it aloud, the implication was clear - if the locals decided to take offence at things that didn't directly concern them, they would be dissuaded from meddling, forcefully if needed.

* * *

**=MK=**

**3 January 2011**  
**PRT HQ**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

The State Department delegation arrived early in the morning, hours before the meeting set up with the Mandalorian negotiator. They came on a modified Blackhawk, escorted by four more helicopters full with PRT agents, a far cry from the pompt and considerations once upon a time diplomats expected as a matter of course. In the age of the Parahumans, diplomacy had became more important, yet less impactfull, less able to produce results. Even before Leviatan, countries all over the world had seen their conventional power weakened in the face of Parahuman threats. The Endbringers simply cemented the new status quo.

What use was the largest and most powerful navy in the world against Leviathan? At best, if the navy's ships survived being anywhere close to the monster, they could provide limited disaster relief. In fact, that has been the military's primary function for years now.

The Mandalorians and what they represented, ironically enough, made the armed forces both less relevant than ever and potentially a game-changer in the future, but only if the dimplomats played their hands right today, and in the weeks, months and years to come.

When the Blackhawk landed, Director Piggot and Dauntless were there to meet them with two squads of PRT troopers acting as additional security until they could bring the VIPs inside the building. First to disembark was was Jennifer Hargreave, one of the most senior and experienced diplomats the State Department had. She was a tall, wiry woman in her late fifties, with calm grey eyes that had seen much.

"Director Piggot," The diplomat nodded in greeting. "Has anything new happened since we left Washington, which might impact the negotiations?"

"Our guests have been quiet since last night. You've read Miss Militia's report, they're interested in Panacea's abilities, they did tell us that much."

"Interesting." The Diplomat allowed and moved aside to allow her companions to disembark. A younger man wearing expensive suit was next, he nodded as well without saying a word and moved to stand behind Hargrave - an aide, bodyguard, perhaps both.

Third to disembark was a man wearing a snow white navy uniform. He had his chest covered in ribbons telling the tale of his distinguished military career from Vietnam onwards. "Good morning, Director. I'm Commander Richard Marcinko, on detached duty from DEVGRU." He offered Emily a hand, and followed with a firm shake, when she reciprocated. "And this is Colonel Charles Trask, from USASOC. We'll represent the Department of Defence during the negotiations and evaluate any infantry scale military gear we might be purchasing."

"A pleasure, Ma'am Director." The Colonel greeted after exiting the Blackhawk. He was a tall black man built like a brick wall. In fact, he made the newest ward, Browbeat, appear almost small in comparison.

With introductions done, everyone hurried to get out of the freezing breeze coming from over the bay.

"Director Piggot, have you been appraised on the latest developments in Washington, which can impact your city?" Mrs Hargreave asked when they were out of the wind and making their way towards the conference room, which would be used for the meeting later in the day.

"Not necessary." Emily admitted. Over the past day she had received more rumours than fact coming from DC, and LA for that matter.

"There are elements within the Justice Department eager to open an investigation into the so called 'Battle for Brockton Bay'." The Diplomat admitted. "Ever since I got briefed about this mess, I've seen requests to grant the Mandalorians everything they want, or not to budge an inch and demand compensation for the damage caused before we can open real negotiations." Hargreave rolled her eyes. "There are a lot of scared people looking for someone to blame if anything else goes wrong, as well as a scapegoat to crucify, because now they can deny how powerless they're. The villain situation in your city makes you a perfect target, Director." At that the diplomat actually smirked. "It's just that no one else wants your job, when it means they would be to blame when something else goes wrong."

"Nothing I didn't know or suspect, unfortunately." Emily grumbled. "Of course everyone conveniently forgets how many times I've requested support from the Protectorate, PRT, Justice Department and various Federal law enforcement agencies, yet no one sent any help our way."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be getting support in view of current events, Director." The Colonel stated in a deep rumbling voice, which held a hint of New Yorker accent. "I'm just afraid that it might be too little too late."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Mandalorian Knights FOB**  
**Docks**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

Aria watched the shuttle with the Sales Representative and their escort rise smoothly from the ground and quietly fly away above the nearby buildings. She felt restless this morning, it began as an uneasy feeling, which was almost too weak to perceive. As the morning progressed, a sense of foreboding spread through the Force, as if there was gathering storm in the air. Yet, Aria couldn't perceive any threat materializing, that could explain it. Well, any credible threat to her person anyway, the same wasn't necessary true for her subordinates - like three of the four wounded who were already back home to be healed up or observed for any complications.

"I'm going out," Aria eventually declared, cloaked herself with the Force and went out to stretch her legs.

The foreboding sensation slowly rose to a crescendo, a keening tune echoing through the Force. There was something out there, just beyond Aria's grasp and perception. The freezing air carried over a taste of sheer overwhelming terror, someone was pleading, begging and screaming for help, help that wouldn't materialize. The tang of such a desperation was deliciously enticing as it flowed over the Sith's emphatic senses. The Dark Side coiled in anticipation, sending pleasant shivers down her spine.

Whatever had the Force in such a state was about to happen, soon. That much Aria was certain off. She darted from rooftop to rooftop, and when it became inconvenient, she landed unnoticed on the streets below, dashing past speeding traffic, through side alleys and backyards, heading straight to the delectable suffering echoing through the Force. It was like an irresistable siren song for those able to hear its tune. The delectable despair, the sense of abandonment, the profound oppressive feeling of being betrayed, yet curiously enough, there was almost no anger there. Just anguish.

Half an hour - it lasted that long, gradually building in intensity until it reached a crescendo leading to an explosive culmination. Someone touched upon by the Force screamed nearby, their agony made manifest,sending shock-waves through the fabrics of Aria's power. For a brief moment a mind opened, left completely defenceless. Something tore into it, burying a poisoned stinger within the essence of what made its victim who they were. Aria could almost see two immense shapes - they dwarfed even the biggest Star Dreadnought, twisting around each other among a shower of countless falling stars. The visions was over almost as soon as it began. The other presence in the Force vanished as if it was never there, leaving behind merely echoes of its suffering.

Aria paused her headlong dash, stumped. "What the ever loving kriff just happening?" The Force began to settle around her, no longer disturbed by the strange event. Did she just sense someone trigger, Aria wondered. The Sith shook her head, checked up to see if she was still cloaked - both by technology and the Force, before she continued her run. She had a pretty good idea of her destination, whatever that was at the end, it came from somewhere nearby.

When she continued to run forward, the Dark Side purred in anticipation.

* * *

**=MK=**

**3 January 2011**  
**PRT HQ**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

While yet another trigger happened in Brockton Bay, the meeting between the Mandal Motors Representative and the US Government officials was already in full swing. It became almost immediately obvious to Joanna Hargreave that the usual diplomatic overtures were simply lost upon her counterpart. It took her a few moments to get over said shock and figure out that he was precisely what he appeared to be - a Corporate Sales Rep, not a Mandalorian diplomat masquerading as one. That at leas meant that they could soon dispense with the usual games and get down to work - something that would have made generation of past diplomats howl in at the sheer breach of etiquette.

Diplomacy, for good or ill, no longer was what it used to be, Joanna thought wishfully.

As far as negotiations went, these were very blunt and to the point. Hargreave struggled to figure out if it was, because of just how Mandalorians were or the fact that, well her counterpart simply wanted to get the deal with the primitives done and leave the their backward world behind.

"We have many things we produce and sell all over the galaxy, Madam. The real question is what do you need and what can you afford."

"What about those nice armours your security detail wears, Mr Varek?"

"You can't afford more than a token number at best. Currently domestic production is tapped out to finish upgrading our military's gear, and once said task is complete, we've got contracts to keep the factories spinning for the next five years straight providing gear for various System Defence Forces all over the galaxy. What we do have for sale are an older generation of semi-powered and unpowered armour, the direct precursor to the modern suits, which everyone's busy phasing out..." Greel Varek tapped a few buttons on his large data-pad and a holographic image of an armoured suit appeared above the oak table they all sat around.

"This is the standard medium semi-powered armour that was and to some extent still is the mainstream for infantry across the galaxy. Decent armour, integrated shields, full NBC protection, it's naturally space rated, can be equipped with repulsorlift pods or rocket packs..." It was a rather long and comprehensive list.

"How much does one suit cost?" Commander Marcinko asked.

"That's the rub isn't it?" Varek smiled blandly. "Due to economy of scale and the surplus the military has, we're able to procure fully overhauled suits for as little as eight thousand credits. The usual contracts are for batches of five or fifteen, either for a standard full fire-team or squad, they come with one or two maintenance unit per batch, respectively. Purchase of spare parts is optional, though we do recommend that you buy licensed fabricators and the know how to maintain and operate them instead. It saves a lot in the long run. Still, the question remain, no matter if we're talking about medical equipment, infantry gear or even theatre shields, how are you going to pay for them? The only precious metals we're really interested you mine are vanandium,osmium and iridium. We're talking tons of the latter two for any useful amount of equipment. Enough vanadium could buy you some samples to evaluate."

The haggling went on from there. To Joanna's frustration, the Mandalorian was serious about his starting position - silver, gold, platinum, gems, they were either dirt cheap or created in industrial quantities. While private citizens might be interested in Earth Jewels, Mandal Motors wasn't.

"What about asteroid mining?" Armsmaster asked. The Protectorate hero has been silent so far, merely content to observe.

"Unless you're able to do it yourselves, its a no go. There very well might be valuable deposits out in your system, however if we have to do dig them up ourselves, I can assure you, our people will stake claim on whatever they find and reap the profits. Let's not dance around the issue. You lack credible presence and thus claim beyond your orbitals. By sending people on your moon in the past and planting your flag, you do have some claim on it and whatever useful deposits might be buried under the surface. However, the fact that you lack the capability to go there and exploit any such deposits at this time, significantly weakens said claim."

"Might makes right?" Hargreave asked. When you stripped all the diplomatic language and niceties away, that has been the case, usually.

"Right?" The Mandalorian shook his head. "Certainly not. However, it is the deciding factor on who is left standing in the end, and if you can keep what you've worked long and hard to build."

"Tinkertech then - what we have available, both built by our tinkers and captured from villains. Expertise in custom building and maintaining it." Armsmaster suggested.

"Now we're talking business." Varek leaned forward, his interest peaked. "What do you have in mind?"


	15. Chapter 7 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**3 January 2011**  
**Winslow High School**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

For a school, this Winslow place sure felt like a hive of scum and villainy, Aria concluded when she landed in its parking lot. A lot of misery, teenage angst, though she wasn't one to speak about it - technically she wasn't old enough to be a teenager yet with the whole being a clone thing... The important part was that she could feel the impressions in the Force left by the potential trigger event hang above this place like gathering storm clouds. Aria entered the building, raced through empty corridors paying scarcely any attention to the graffiti covered walls, using her enhanced perception to figure out why the Force led her here. She went past classrooms full with bored, unmotivated students, only a handful shone dully above the sea of mediocrity and apathy drowning the school. None of those she passed felt significant enough to garner her attention.

Eventually, Aria reached a long hall lined up with locker rooms and there it was - the Dark Side clung upon a figure stuffed within one of them. There were all kinds of creepy crawlers she could perceive inside, crawling and biting the unfortunate girl.

Just, what the kriff?! Aria had seen all kind of horrors during the war, had committed her share of atrocities as well, but this, done by children for what? The kicks?! The sheer senseless cruelty of it went against everything her Master taught her - indulging in such petty acts led down a slippery slope, insanity and being the Dark Side's pawn! That was something she absolutely refused to be! She was a pawn once, meant to die for cause that was never hers to begin with!

Aria walked towards the locker and glared at its door. The Force pulsed around her and the flimsy metal sheet crumpled into a ball with a familiar sound and she discarded it. With the locker open, aria saw a rather tall girl - for a teenage human anyway. She was thin and gangly, awkward looking brunete, covered in rotting filth and self inflicted wounds - obviously obtained during an unsuccessful attempt to get out. Thee were scrapers along her arms an legs, she had torn many of her nails away, flailing uselessly against the metal door.

A brush of precisely applied power saw all the insects scurrying around shiver into husks as Aria drained their very lives away. She gently picked up the unconscious girl using telekinesis and pulled her out.

"What makes you so interesting that the Force itself took notice?" The Sith wondered aloud. Whoever this girl was, whatever power she might have gained, one thing was sure, she wasn't Force Sensitive. Yet, the Dark Side covered her like a blanket. Aria picked up the girl, glad that she had left wearing a fully sealed armour, cloaked them both with the Force and headed back towards the FOB.

"Central, Starfire. Be advised, I'm on my way back with a wounded civilian. Have the Med Bay ready to receive a casualty. Starfire, over"

* * *

**=MK=**

**The Rig**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

Meanwhile, the Wards gathered within their common room within the heart of the Protectorate's base. Miss Militia would have won her bet - Clockbloker arrived wearing a prop of a Mandalorian bounty hunter costume instead of his own, complete with fake blaster pistols. Given the circumstances, it was only fast talking and his unmistakable brand of humour that kept him from being foamed up for long enough to confirm his identity. Thus a salty Clockbloker dragged himself into the Wards' space, helmet in hand and a small mask covering his face.

"Bonus points for effort, though I'll have to take off some for execution." Assault quipped. He was in the lounge along with Battery - Director Piggot volunteered them to brief the Wards and make sure the kids knew better than to provoke the Mandalorians, especially the Sith. That naturally meant Shadow Stalker and to a lesser extent, Vista.

"Now that we're all here, gather around kids!" Assault proclaimed. "Its story time! We'll be talking about evil wizards, the Empire they built and why we should not provoke them or else..." And he suffered yet another slap over his head courtesy of his lovely wife. He knew she appreciated his brand of humour... when he found the right time for it. Unfortunately, even after all this time, his timing was still kind of hit and miss as far as everyone else were concerned.

"I'm sure all of you had heard the rumours, seen the speculations on PHO as well." Battery began. "You've been briefed about the Mandalorian Knight's claims, though only a few of you have been made privy to the full truth." That at least got the Wards' undivided attention, even Shadow Stalker was attentive for a change. "We have confirmation about their origin, even if we're light on confirmed details." Battery went on to explain what they knew for sure, some of what they suspected as well, silencing Assault every time he tried to open his mouth.

"Sith. Real fucking Sith and we're supposed to play nice with them! What. The. Hell!?" Surprisingly, that burst came from Vista instead of the usual suspect, who was currently silent and had a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Yes, Missy. Sith. Honest to God Sith from outer space." Assault repeated. "Sith with a galaxy spanning Empire backing them up and a warship in lunar orbit. The same Sith who destroyed the Merchants in short order after those fools attacked them." The hero nodded. "Those Sith."

Gallant looked between Shadow Stalker and Vista, concern written all over his face. He gave Battery a pointed look, hoping that she would get the message. He needed to talk about what he could sense from his team-mates. Vista was a small bundle of tightly wind up emotions, fear and frustration being the dominant.

Shadow Stalker on the other hand... the best way to describe her right now was hungry anticipation. She was actually looking forward to meeting the Sith, he was sure of it which was just... he didn't know what to make of her at the best of times, and this obviously wasn't one of those.

The moment the briefing ended, Missy stalked out to her room in frustration, while most other Wards began to chatter excitedly about what they heard. Fortunately, Battery did get his hint and nodded at Gallant to follow her as she walked towards the exit.

"Shadow Stalker?" Assault asked after the door closed behind them. So he noticed too, good.

"And Vista as well. I'm not sure who should I be more concerned about right now." Gallant shook his head in worry and went to explain what he had him so concerned.

"I wish I was surprised." Assault grumbled. "Puppy, do you think I should talk with Shadow Stalker, or would it be better if you two had girl-to-girl talk?"

"I'll talk with her before she does something she might not live to regret." Battery muttered. "What about Vista?"

"She might be the most experienced Ward we have, however she is still a twelve year old kid, with all that entails." Assault sighed. "The last thing she actually needs is what she is so eager to get, especially in this city. Now with Sith and gun totting aliens running around spoiling for a fight? This is the worst possible moment for any of you kids to act up, no matter how justified you might believe you're. Gallant, you know Vista better - talk to me."

"She wants more responsibility and to be treated as an adult. You're right, given the circumstances, doing so would be even more of a bad idea than usual." Gallant grimaced. "On top of everything she's had a damn crush on me for some time now, I don't need to tell you how creepy that can be coming from someone that young." The Ward frowned and thought careful about his next words. "I've noticed that she is often feeling down, angry and frustrated when arriving from home. I know her parents are divorced and I suspect that her home life is less than ideal, which contributes to her feeling being cooped in and coddled, which feeds back into her negative emotions creating a nasty feedback loop."

"Joy." Assault grimaced as well, after he took a few moments to digest the information. "Ideally, we would arrange more therapy, be as supportive as we can. Realistically,budget being what it is and proper specialists being scarce on the ground..." He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. "Keep it quiet for now, however I might recommend to the Director that we pull you all off the streets, perhaps send you away from Brockton Bay, for training or something. Even before the Mandalorians arrived, this place was one bad day away from going up in flames. Now? I'm afraid it might be just a matter of time."

"I'll have heart to heart with Vista as well then. Once I'm done, we're going to talk with the Director. You two, do write up a report and attach your recommendations given the change of the strategic situation in the city." Battery gave them their running orders and headed back into Wards' country.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

**3 January 2011**  
**Mandalorian Knights FOB**  
**Docks**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

Taylor dreamt that she was a spider, lazily waiting for lunch to get caught in her web. She dreamt of countless falling stars burning through the air, of all encompassing darkness, which looked straight at her and cackled in anticipation. Her dreams turned into nightmares of rot, decay and biting insects. She saw a blue anger with burning eyes, a large metal spider crawling over her... Taylor awoke with a start, hands flailing to fend off biting, crawling horrors that weren't there. She felt warm and comfortable, confused too. It was as if she was diffused, drifting all over the place, perceiving many different things her mind struggled to process.

"Well, that was faster than anticipated. You do good work, Doctor." An unfamiliar voice came from beside Taylor's bed. The teen looked that way seeing only a human shaped blurry outline.

"Wha't 'appened?" Taylor slurred. "Glasses?" She tried again, taking care to speak slowly and clearly.

"Glasses?" That same voice asked. It was female, calm and reassuring.

Someone else spoke, they sounded metallic if that made any sense, and talked in an unfamiliar language.

"Ah. Those. I'm afraid we've misplaced them. I'm sure we'll be able to fix you up with something soon." The woman explained. "First thing first, you must know you should make full recovery." Physically anyway, Aria didn't say aloud. She could clearly sense the girl's utter confusion, as her eyes darted this way and that, searching for something. "How are you feeling, Ms Hebert?" The Sith asked. At the time she hadn't paid attention to the name of the locker, however a consultation with the recording taken by her helmet's camera fixed that oversight.

"Weird?" The teen half-stated, half-asked. "I think I'm seeing things."

"Curious." She was possibly a thinker then, like Lisa, useful if that was the case. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The girl, Taylor, grabbed her sides and rocked, shacking in distress.

"Shh, its going to be all right. Just tell me, you'll feel better afterwards, I promise." Aria whispered in her best soothing, kind voice. There were drugs on the ready to either calm the new Parahuman down or knock her out if necessary.

Taylor sniffed, and began to haltingly and slowly tell her tale. Soon the floodgates opened and she bared her heart and told everything now that she had a shoulder to cry on for the first time since her mother died. She told about the long campaign of abuse, of the uncaring teachers and other school staff, of Emma, Sophia and Madison, their hanger on. Taylor told how her best friend betrayed her, again and again, of the confusion, blaming herself for said betrayal, of how she loathed everything that had been happening. Of how helpless she was to stop it, of how useless her father had been for years now... She talked and talked with barely any prompting from the Sith, who only had to ask the right question at the correct time to get the girl going on and on, until she was spent.

All things considered, it was pathetically easy to make Taylor open, which was no surprise given her vulnerable state, something, which Aria ruthlessly exploited. The Force deemed this girl important, which meant that the Sith Apprentice wanted Taylor on her side.

"It will be all right, Taylor, I promise. Those people won't hurt you ever again, you have my word."

"Why should I believe you?" Taylor asked, showing surprising insight given her emotional state.

"Have I failed you? Have I lied to you?" Aria demanded, using a light tone layered with a hint of hurt at the lack of trust.

"Everyone else did or didn't care!"

"I do care, my dear girl, and I'll prove it to you. Now lay back and rest. You're still recovering." Aria made a sign and the droid floating nearby unnoticed used a hypospray to put Taylor to sleep. Once the Sith was sure her new friend was safely under, she got up and left the Med Bay. "Is Lisa on site yet? No? Have her report to me when she arrives."

* * *

**=MK=**

One compiled and sent report later, describing her experience with the suspected trigger event, saw Aria sitting in her office, wondering how exactly to play things with this Taylor Hebert. A simple expedient would be to make her disappear and send her through the breach to be studied, which she felt would be a waste considering the trouble the Force went to point the girl out to her. That by itself was highly unusual, especially when it turned out that she wasn't Force Sensitive - that much Aria could sense.

The girl was a broken little thing, desperate for social interactions, eager for validation, and despite everything she had been through, there was a desperate need to prove herself, to be better than those who turned her life into a living hell, to be a hero.

She was borderline suicidal at best.

Aria could work with this, she decided. She could think of multiple ways to prove to Taylor that she had her back, that she cared and would see her tormentors punished. If Aria handled it right, gave her what she was so desperate to gain, and Taylor would be hers'. The Sith sensed Tattletale's mischievous presence approach.

"Lisa, do get in." Aria said aloud when the thinker approached her door.

"You shouted, your Sithiness?" Lisa pocked her head in, irrelevant grin on her face.

"Get in, we've got work to do. I have a new project for you. How would you like a new friend?"

"Are you going to throw me at Panacea, again? That particular poster child for mental issues rally doesn't make it for me. In fact, with my power, no one really makes it for me." Lisa grumbled. If she had to be honest to herself, which most certainly wasn't the case, she would have admitted that the possibility to finally getting laid without her power ruining it before the fun began, was one of the major reasons why she took Mandalore's offer. Retirement somewhere nice and safe sounded great as well.

"Not at her, no." Aria smirked.

"You're going to throw me at someone, I can see it written all over your face!" Lisa accused.

"In a manner of speaking. I stumbled into something fascinating today."

"Don't you mean someone?"

"Shush, you, I'm talking. As I said..." Aria summarized how she found Taylor and their talk after the girl awoke once her initial treatment was done.

"So you've found yourself an Apprentice who can't become a Sith..." Lisa trailed off, thinking.

"Think protegee. I think it's high time I follow in Master's footsteps on that one and begin gathering and nurturing promising people." Aria peered at Lisa. "I can't really take credit for you, even if you're practically under my wing."

"And very glad to be there boss!" Lisa chirped. She wasn't entirely joking either - given the circumstances she could have ended in the same predicament as the Merchant's capes if she had fucked up during her time on Mandalore. This certainly beat said possibility, besides the payment and benefits were loads better than what Coil could ever offer her.

It still irked that she had been basically conscripted, again...

"What do you want me to do?" Lisa asked for clarification even as her power gave her various potential options.

"The girl does need friends her age, tons of therapy too, and you just volunteered on both counts."

"I did? Joy." Lisa said with a straight face.

"Yes, I just volunteered you." Aria nodded seriously. "Now, cultural context. What obstacles will we face in taking Taylor Hebert as one of our own? Consider the full package, similar to the deal you made, full Freehold citizenship, the works."

"Well, she's underage, you basically kidnapped her, she might have family to get back to, or which will keep looking for her," Lisa began to list potential issues to be resolved. "The Protectorate and PRT might protest as poaching an underage cape, did I mention she's underage?"

"What's your point? All three of you Undersiders are underage."

"No one knows who we actually are, well except you people and Coil but fuck that guy with a rusty fork. For all anyone knows, we do have parental permission or lack parental units who give a shit about us. The same isn't necessary true for your new minion, no to mention that this time it won't necessary be an accomplished fact we'll be presenting to the local authorities. You do want positive PR when possible, do you not? Being seen as conscripting child soldiers won't earn you much of that. All kinds of people might raise a stink over it." Lisa shrugged. "Or they might not care at all depending on what deal that Sales Rep makes today. Anything I need to know?"

"One of the things he'll be looking to procure is land for a proper base outside of the city limits. We'll be going to sight see any suggested locations before we buy it."

"Field trip then, in January. Joy."

"We do have a pint sized power armour for you complete with environmental controls." Aria pointed out.

"You know what? I might just get to use the damn thing. Its freezing outside."


	16. Chapter 7 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**3 January 2011**  
**Mandalorian Knights FOB**  
**Docks**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

Lisa has been earning her keep, Aria decided. Perhaps she should do something nice for the girl - it always paid to keep your competent subordinates happy after all. She picked up one of the burner phones the Undersiders had bought in bulk with cash sourced from selling precious metals, switched it on, typed the PIN and once the device was active, entered the Hebert's phone number. The fact that neither of them had a so called mobile phone, came as an irritating surprise making it a bit harder to contact - the Sith had to wait for a stealthed droid hanging around their house to notice Taylor's father arrive home before contacting had debated if it would be for the best to keep the man out of the loop but thought better not. After all, if necessary she could think of various ways to help keep him estranged from her brand new protegee if he turned out to be trouble. For the time being, PR was the name of the game - proving that the Freehold in general and Mandal Motors along with the Mandalorian Knights in particular, more importantly, one Aria Veil, Sith in training, cared, a delicious irony, especially considering the odd preconceptions the locals suffered under.

"Yes?" A harried male voice answered.

"Daniel Hebert?" Aria asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Yes, I'm him. Who is this?"

"My name is Aria Veil and I have information about your daughter."

"What? You know what happened to Taylor? Where is she?!" The man exclaimed. He was worried and unsettled, anger clear in his voice. Good, that meant he wasn't thinking clearly.

"It was me who rescued your daughter earlier today and brought her to medical assistance. I found her locked into her locker, which have been filled up with all kinds of rotting trash. Your daughter is currently sedated, recovering from infected wounds she caused herself trying and failing to free herself from her confinement." Aria explained. Even this, telling a truth that was going to hurt, was enough to ensure the Dark Side sent a stab of pleasure through her whole body. There were days Aria wondered how her Master had kept himself sane-ish after decades of this. She dismissed that thought and concentrated on the conversation.

"That's..." Hebert spluttered. "All the school told me was that Taylor vandalized her own locker and ran away!" He exclaimed furiously. Oh, my, that man had such a temper, his rage was simply delicious.

"From what little I saw, that so called 'school' and the people working there, I wouldn't trust them if they told me the water was wet without checking first." Aria hummed. "Do you intent to come visit your daughter? We're located at the following address..." She dictated the location of the FOB. It wasn't like people already didn't know at least its general location if not the precise building they currently used as a primary barracks.

"That's not a hospital..." Hebert asked, suspicion making its way into his voice.

"I never claimed that I was with any hospital, Mr Hebert. In truth it was pure luck that I ran into your daughter. I am with the Mandalorian Knight's a PMC looking for job opprtunities in your city. When I found your daughter and saw her condition, I brought her to our medics, I we do have access to better technology than the average hospital." Aria explained, twisting the truth somewhat. "Should I expect your arrival today?"

"I'll be on my way shortly. Can you repeat the address?"

Aria did as asked and wondered if the man was going to have the presence of mind to call the police or PRT first. The next few hours were going to be rather entertaining, she decided.

* * *

**=MK=**

**PRT HQ**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

"This could have gone better." Commander Marcinko allowed. He took a sip of steaming hot tea, and relaxed in his chair. Despite his seventy odd years, due to a tinkertech related accident back in the early nineties, he was physically somewhere in his mid fifties nowadays. While he didn't look too closely into that particular gift horse, there were times that he felt the weight of all his years crashing down, especially in winter. He could seldom get his old bones feel warm these days, damn it! Still, while he was still kicking and screaming, he wasn't going to let age win! He was a stubborn bastard like that!

"We could have met a bunch of helpful space hippies eager to gift us with tons of advanced technology." The Colonel played along for a moment before snorting. "As if, with our luck."

"Well,we didn't quite sell our sovereignty, neither most of the country." Hargreave didn't sound too convinced herself.

"You know, the odds are history books would paint you as a short signed traitors anyway. I can practically guarantee it that people in DC are chomping at the bit no matter what deal you're coming back there with." Marcinko offered his opinion.

"Isn't that a bit pessimistic, Dic?" Trask wondered.

"If anything, I'm being unusually mellow and generous today. I meant it, it could have been worse."

"A large plot of land in the city's general vicinity, final sale pending approval form Mandalorian personnel after they've examined it. A large part of our strategic reserve of certain rare materials, a few metric tons of tinkertech, literally. Expertise in maintaining and reverse engineer it, by guaranteeing some of Dragon's time to work on projects that takes their fancy or sent a few tinkers to their dimension for up to a month at a time..."

"In exchange, we're getting a battalion worth of advanced armour, maintenance units, fabricators to produce spare parts, blasters and ammo for the, with the primary benefit there being their stun setting..." Marcinko listed off.

"Its the political consideration that would have Washington howl to high heaven." The Hargreave noted. "If it was just the materials and tinker expertise, this would have been an amazing deal." Joanna grumbled.

"You could have refused the fine points. There's still chance that Washington wouldn't approve the deal going through." The Colonel mused. "I'm half tempted to agree with some of their thinking if it comes to that."

"I'm not too thrilled about it." Marcinko shrugged. "However, and I'm sure Mrs Hargreave would point it out, and spell it in small easy to understand words, all she did was simply officially aknowledge the new status quo." The Commander grimaced. "We do not dare move against these people unless we absolutely have to. For all intents and purposes they already control the docks and are likely to blow off the face of the Earth anyone who tries to dislodge them, the same would be true if, or should I say, when, they decide to establish a proper base."

"I'm well aware that allowing us the option to accept that they have final say about what happens within their enclaves is simply aknowledging the new reality. They'll be running those places under their own laws and our only real recourse if we disagree will be military response."

"A confrontation that at best is going to be a very bloody tactical victory." Trask pointed out the elephant in the room. "At which point, their ship in orbit is liable to use us as target practice."

"This is a part of my reasoning. While we didn't explicitly discuss it, do you really think that they would make business only with us? I'm certain if we make it harder, at best they will simply pick up their people and set up a base in another country. And at worst..." A pained grimace appeared on Joanna's face. "They will ignore us, continue to do their thing in our country and dare us to do something about it."

* * *

**=MK=**

While the people from DC discussed the outcome of the negotiations, Director Piggot wondered if she should bite the bullet and request that Panacea healed her. She really needed a stiff drink right about now.

"Why are we learning about this just now? A possible trigger at Winslow, a missing potential Parahuman with the trauma still fresh in her mind... How did the fucking Mandalorians run into the girl and take her without anyone noticing?!" Emily already knew at least a part of the answer even as she vented into the phone, while Renick simply endured it. Their stealth technology, perhaps the 'Force', which for everything written about it by various people over the years could as well be a blank board - as often represented, the damn thing was a plot device, which could either be omnipotent or fail at a whim...

The Director took a few breaths to calm herself. "Send Miss Militia to visit the Mandalorians and ask about the missing girl. Better yet, if her father hasn't left yet, call him and have her accompany him." Emily slammed the phone shut and cursed up a storm. Piggot picked up her phone and called the Rig. She needed to have words with Shadow Stalker.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**3 January 2011**  
**Oval Office**  
**White House**  
**Washington DC**  
**Earth Bet**

President Hayes met with the Secretary of State, Michael Winters, and his Chief of Staff, Marlene Graves, as soon as news of the negotiations in Brockton Bay arrived. The three of them had just enough time to read and digest the summary before the Secret Service left them alone with steaming cups of coffee near each other. A wave of static washed over the room, confirming that the Oval Office was as secure as it could practically be, and the meeting went began in earnest.

"Can we sell this or should I expect to be torn limb for limb, when it becomes public?" The President wondered aloud.

"As long as you don't expect it to be ratified." Graves said, though she didn't sound particularly sure of her conclusion - an unusual state for the confident woman. "I'm sure there will be hearings and committees going wild over this both in the House and the Senate. I won't be surprised if certain parts are challenged in the courts and it might eventually reach the Supreme Court as well."

"The land concessions." Secretary Winters spoke. He had been silent so far, besides exchanging the expected pleasantries on arrival, content to leaf trough the summary of the deal, examining it in detail "If we accept, it will set up a precedent, Mr President. In which case, we can expect that any entity from that dimension we deal with, will want such considerations as well as a matter of course. That said, in principle, what the Mandalorians want isn't much different in spirit neither in practice from the deals we have in place concerning some of our own oversea bases."

"It doesn't matter. That's not something the United States had to consent to in a very long time if ever." Graves shook her head, her shoulder length hair swaying like a veil behind her. "It's the admission we'll make by accepting the deal as it is, which will have people baying for blood. A foreign power buying our land and treating it as their own?" The Chief of Staff snorted. "It's going to be ugly."

"We already have such a precedent - technically every singly embassy is treated as foreign land, including foreign military personnel guarding them, the same being true for our own embassies worldwide. The personnel serving there operate under the jurisdiction and laws of the country owning the embassy while on its territory." The Foreign Secretary pointed out. "Further, say what you will, this deal merely formalizes the facts on the ground." Winters paused and gave the President a searching look. "Unless something significant has chanced since I was briefed on the situation?"

"No new developments, barring the obvious." Hayes nodded at the folder the Foreign Secretary held.

"In that case, we still don't dare move openly against our visitors. In fact unless we have no other option, we're about to give them more or less a free reign, isn't that right?"

"They have a warship in orbit, one we're not sure we can touch." The President sighed heavily. "That tends to have such an ffect." Hayes smiled bitterly. "As far as we know, that thing is really what they claim - merely a well armed scout, yet we suspect that given time it has the fire-power to level every single city on the planet from beyond the range we could even scratch its paint."

No one dared test if the Mandalorians, the Federated Empire they were part of, and more importantly, the Sith ruling the former, would have the inclination to burn down whole cities if provoked. Or put even a country, or two to the torch as an example.

"Technically speaking, I don't need anyone's approval to make the deal happen. Marlene, the question then becomes, can we survive the fallout and what it is going to cost us?"

"A great deal of political capital and lot of concessions - at best. We need to get ahead of the curve, prove to everyone willing to listen that this deal is in their best interest. The deal Panacea made in order to heal that Mandalorian soldier? It can work in our favour."

"If I was a betting man, I would put my money on that stunt being an advertisement campaign as much as anything else. The Mandalorians should be delivering the promised medical equipment, along with people who could train the hospital's staff in using it before the end of the week. Once the technology is in place, and proved to be working, thus seen saving lives, we'll have a PR victory to wave at people." Winters suggested.

"I like that!" Hayes smiled. "We'll need more, however."

"That's the issue, isn't it? This technology, if we can get enough of it, fast enough, is the game-changer we've been desperately looking for. How do we get enough of it and what will it cost us?" Graves asked.

"I need options, people! What else can we sell that the Mandalorians would want? What can we afford to offer without being branded traitors? Now, while talking about what else we can offer, can someone explain to me how were we able to offer Dragon's expertise and what it's going to cost us? She is a Canadian citizen, a member of the Guild. Even though she has a great working relationship with the PRT and Protectorate, that doesn't put us under our command, unless it is you who know something you should be sharing with the class?"

"We've offered her a first crack at any advanced technology we purchase. If she can reverse engineer and put into mass production even inferior knock-off copies and shares it with us, we'll be in a much better position. Dragon is one of the people very much aware of the long term projections hanging above our collective heads. She's on board with anything within reason, that might reverse the trend." Winters explained. "My department did contact her and received her blessing to offer her expertise as a part of the deal."

"That's good. For a moment there I thought that someone overstepped their bonds. The last thing we need is to alienate the most powerful benevolent tinker on the face of the planet." Especially when she was stationed right next door, in Ottawa, Hayes didn't say aloud.

* * *

**=MK=**

**3 January 2011**  
**Mandalorian FOB**  
**Docks**  
**Brockton Bay**  
**Earth Bet**

Daniel Hebert felt small and squishy when he arrived at the mercenaries' compound. He wasn't a particularly tall man, not very sturdily build one either. In comparison, the power armoured guard towered over him like giants of legend. They had very large guns too, weapons which they carried with practical ease - that much he could still easily recognize after the tour of duty he spent in the Navy during his youth. He had seen more than enough veteran marines with similar bearing to forget it any time soon.

A blue skinned woman with striking solid red eyes met him at the entrance, she promptly introduced herself as Aria Veil,the person who called him here and claimed to have rescued his daughter.

"Mr Hebert? Please follow me, the Medical Station is at the back." The woman explained calmly and waved him to follow.

"What exactly happened? How did you find Taylor in the first place?"

"Your daughter did share some details before going under the medicaments eradicating the infections she's suffering from. Apparently, she had been being bullied since her first day at that sorry excuse for a school, a campaign of torment, which culminated today into a murder attempt..." Veil explained.

The blue woman led Danny through a highly modified warehouse. He could see one section set up as a mess hall, another taken by a semi-circle of manned large computer temrinals complete with a life-like holographic display of the docks hanging in front of it, there were armoured people coming and going... all of it looked very disciplined and professional, reminding him, again, of his time in the military. Whatever, whoever, these people were, they were anything but your average gang. That was both a source of relief and concern. Who were they, really? What did they want with his Taylor?!

The Medical Centre was at the back of the building, divided from it by white walls, that didn't quite look like plastic. Veil led him inside, revealing that the place had been divided into multiple smaller rooms, just enough to fit a hospital bed, some equipment and give enough space for doctors and floating spider-like robots to work. One of those things - roughly the size of a stove, when counting its eight metal manipulators currently kept close to its cylindrical body, floated in one corner of Taylor's room.

"Little Owl..." Danny whispered when he saw his daughter lay sleeping in the hospital bed. She looked small and pale, a thin gash marred her forehead - clearly visible through a transparent covering that revealed a thin film of bluish substance.

"Bacta patch." His guide explained, when she saw what he was looking at. "There are more of those covering her hands and arms." Which were currently mercifully hidden under a thin white blanket, which covered Taylor up to her chin.

"When will she awake?" Danny demanded, struggling to keep his voice quiet.

"Five to six hours at least. It might be better if we leave her to sleep off the worst worst of it. That would be up to the doctor and medical droids." Veil nodded at the metal spider.

"You know, that one looks familiar..." Danny muttered, after he gave the robot one long, hard look.

"I'm not surprised..." She began with an indulgent smile on the face, before cutting off. "We apparently have an uninvited guest. I guess she might be here because of your daughter and you, Mr Hebert. Am I right to assume that you called the PRT before heading this way? Miss Militia just entered our outer perimeter."

Danny numbly nodded, now hopping that calling the authorities hasn't been a mistake. From what he saw in here, he wasn't sure that the local heroes would be able to win a confrontation.

"Perhaps, its better that way. Miss Militia is well aware who and what we are. She'll be able to confirm our origins. I can promise you, your daughter is as safe in here as anyone could be in this city. Shall we go meet our new visitor?"


	17. Chapter 8 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**3 January 2011**

**Mandalorian Knights FOB**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Negotiating, while drawing heavily on the Force was nothing less than balatant, filthy cheating. Aria loved it! Polite introductions, a few leading questions, a worried and angry father with an impressive temper, who served as an excellent distraction, a few insinuations about a kidnapping, and there they were...

"Oh, I can assure you, Miss Militia, you can speak with Ms Hebert as soon as she is awake, she'll confirm I merely got her out of that locker. She can name those who shoved her inside – an Emma Barnes and Madision Clemens, who along with a certain Sophia Hess had been perpetrating a long campaign of terror..." Aria trailed off.

The Protectorate heroine has been perfectly professional in her conduct so far, even angry at what had been done to the girl in the infirmary. She didn't show any reaction to the first two names – no surprise there. The third one, however? There was surprise there, outright shock that her mask couldn't hide.

"Sophia Hess..." Aria repeated, tasting and testing the name. "Who is she to you, Miss Militia? Someone you know when you don't wear that scarf of yours?"

The heroine's eyes merely tightened, however outwardly she didn't show any other sign of recognizing the name. Inside, however? To someone who could sense her emotions clear as a day? The Sith smiled.

"You do know her, don't you? A friend or relative perhaps?" Aria shook her head, Miss Militia's racing emotions giving the truth away. "Your feelings betray you. Not a friend, nor a relative then. An acquintence anyway. Perhaps the child of a co-worker, perhaps even a hero..." Aria tested the heroine's reaction and there it was.

"What are you talking about?!" Danny Hebert snapped, when his temper went out of control.

"Is Sophia Hess the child of a hero then? She can't be a hero herself, of course..." Aria muttered aloud just as Miss Militia opened her mouth to deny. The Force swirled around the Sith, crooning at the revelation she just stumbled into. "A hero..." Aria shook her head in amusement. That mere insinuation, meant to needle the heroine even further, thus keeping her off- balance for longer, produced a striking result. The spike of emotions that came with it…

"You know I can neither confirm, nor deny, right?" Miss Militia finally found her voice.

"It explains so much, doesn't it? Did you cover for your pet amateur monster or was it mere incompetence? Who is Sophia Hess? An independent closely aligned with you people or one of your Wards?"

Miss Militia wisely declined to answer, she made herself a hasty excuse and left, yet it was far too late. "A Ward then." Aria spoke aloud once the heroine was out of earshot, undoubtedly racing to report her mishap and a new set of abilities for the this Sith in particular and the Sith in general.

"What the hell just happened?!" Hebert drew a hand through receding hair. "This can't be, surely?!" He spoke quietly, in a voice heavy with betrayal, and shattering illusions.

"I can now say, with very heavy dose of confidence, that one of your daughter's tormentors is a Ward, I'm not sure which one. Either Vista or Shadow Stalker, if my information about the local Protectorate is correct."

"Vista's young girl, she shouldn't be going to high school yet…" Hebert grasped that peripheral detail like a life-line, while struggling to keep his temper from getting away from him, and failing. "What the ever-loving fuck!?" He exclaimed in frustration.

"My thoughts exactly. I believe it would be for the best that we have a talk with your daughter once she is awake and in her right mind. We're not local, Mr Hebert, that much should be obvious. We aren't quite familiar yet with how things are done around here. However, a few independent contractors we hired as guides so to speak, did paint a bleak pictures about the prospects available to new Parahumans, especially in this city. If you want, I can introduce you to one of them – she is a young teenager, about your daughter's age."

"I..." Danny grimaced. "What is your interest in my daughter? What do you want with her?" He demanded, weariness, worry, anger and a hint of fear making for an excellent bouquet of emotions.

"My power led me to her, Mr Hebert. I don't believe in coincidences. I foresee that your daughter will play an important role in the future. The only question is if she'll be pawn or a player in the game of her life." The Chiss answered.

The odd phrasing threw Danny off for a few moments, before it registered that Aria didn't really answer his question.

"Do you know how long most independent Parahumans last in this city before they're either murdered or forcibly recruited? Roughly a month or so they tell me." That was how long took Coil to find and track down Lisa before offering her a deal she couldn't refuse.

"I would have said that the Wards were the safe option for your daughter, Mr Hebert, however..." Aria shrugged apologetically.

"One of them tormented her for..." Danny's voice cracked. If something like that has been going ever since Taylor began attending Winslow, yet he didn't notice? Then there was Emma, Alan's little girl being a part of this insanity… They were supposed to be best friends, those two were practically joined by the hip until… Danny morosely found out he couldn't remember when was the last time Emma came for a sleepover…

"We might be able to offer an alternative, Mr Hebert, one that won't see Taylor go out to face criminals without training, support and state of the art equipment, and only if she so desires of course."

"A recruitment pitch? Who are you people, really? Who would I let Taylor go anywhere near a bunch of mercenaries..." Danny swallowed a biting comment and gruffly added: "no offence meant."

"Excellent question, Mr Hebert. As I said, we aren't from around here. In fact, we're way out of town so to speak. Aria explained, and naturally, Danny found it very hard to believe just like the Sith expected.

"That training you mentioned?" Hebert asked, playing around, and humouring the delusion cape

"At a safe location off world, away from the rampant local criminal element. As a bonus, we have no Endbringers." Aria played along. "May I recommend that before you make any decision, you wait for Taylor to awake so you could talk with her and ask her opinion on the matter?" The Sith suggested.

"The thought had crossed my mind." Danny answered.

It was a reasonable decision given the circumstances. More importantly, it gave the Sith hours to speak with Hebert, to probe and prod him. It was time enough to discover his pressure points and how to better use them to gain the desired outcome.

"A cup of coffee would do us both good right now, I think. Care to join me, Mr Hebert?" Aria nodded towards the nearby mess hall. "We can discuss the fine points of the offer we can give you and your daughter..." Aria began her sales' pitch.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**3 January 2011**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Odd loner, one who lacked any friends – that was how Shadow Stalker described Taylor Hebert to the Director over the phone. Perhaps it was even the truth, which wasn't exactly a good piece of news, considering where the girl ended up. A potential fresh trigger, who might lack any support structure with the exception of her father, who in turn might be partially responsible for said mess, or just another innocent victim caught up as collateral damage… Or one of at least a dozen other scenarios, Piggot could think up on the spot. One of the first things Emily did after listening to a record of Mr Hebert's call, was dispatch Miss Militia to sound up the Mandalorians and dispatched a squad to the school to investigate the events there. She knew how high schools were – nothing happened there without the rumor mill spreading it all over the place by noon at the latest. Piggot needed solid information – was there any sign that the Hebert girl had triggered, if so, who had caused it and thus might become targets...

Kidnapping someone out of the blue? That didn't sound like something the Mandalorians would bother with. On the other hand, if the girl was really a Parahuman now, they might feel it prudent to take hard, close look at her. Was Taylor Hebert a victim, beyond the obvious, did she need rescuing from the aliens if at all possible, or was she another ticking time bomb?

If the Mandalorians were a regular gang, or even "normal" Prahumans, then Emily could have made some educated guesses about, which way they might jump. The same was true for the average mercenary outfit.

It was the unknown, that kept the Director on edge. Her gut feeling was that the Mandalorian Knights were being used by their government as deniable assets, yet no one on Earth really knew enough of the political and cultural situation on the other side to even make a wild ass guess, much less than educated one… Piggot drummed her fingers on the smooth surface of her desk, wondering how to play this. She called the Rig again, and ordered Armsmaster to escort Shadow Staler so they could have a meeting in person, checked if her people were on high alert, ready to deploy as the situation warranted, and went to deal with the colossal amount of paperwork generated by this whole mess.

First to call back was Miss Militia, the short and to the point summary she gave, ensured that if she survived the next few days and wasn't on her way to prison for shooting Shadow Stalker, she would put fixing her kidneys near the top of her to do list. Emily really needed a drink, a whole distillery worth of it, when she learned of the ongoing disaster that might have been happening under her nose. It was telling that in this instance she would rather take the words of a traumatized teenager and the Mandalorians, rather than the story spun by Shadow Stalker.

"Commander Erickson, report to my office immediately. I've got a job for you." The Director called one of her most senior Strike Team leaders. She intended to give Shadow Stalker just enough rope to hang herself, and see if the foolish girl would make everyone's work simpler for once by trying to run. She made sure that Armsmaster would be on the look-out for the possibility as well – the last thing they needed was for the little fool to go rogue and get shot by the Mandalorians, or worse, manage to injure one of them.

With the immediate issues taken care of, now Piggot had to figure out how to mitigate the fallout of this latest disaster… and while she was at it, she needed to have another private chat – this time with Sophia Hess' supervisor and she wasn't sure which option would be the worst there – incompetence, someone wanting to keep a cushy assignment, or if it was something more sinister. Emily sighed and called another one of her Strike Team Commanders – they would be taking one of their own in protective custody as well, just in case.

* * *

**=MK=**

**3 January 2011**

**Mandalorian Knights FOB**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Danny Hebert's first taste of alien beverage could have happened under much better circumstances. It was coffee – real one, and an alien blend too, which while good, had an odd, sweet tang to it. Danny clutched his mug in death-man's grip as he passed through the currently empty mess hall, while his host sat on a chair nearby sipping her own drink.

Aria Veil has been talking too, and even with his temper as frayed and ready to go off as it was, she spoke sense, or so it seemed. He might have been stubborn to a fault, he might have inherited his father's and grandfather's infamous tempers, however he wasn't really blind about how much Brockton Bay had been going to the dogs for years now. If it wasn't for the fucked up state of the economy and how tight money were, Danny would have just sold everything, picked up Taylor and left for greener pastures. The big issue was that nowadays, well, there was no guarantee that any place they might be able to get to would be an improvement. Every town and city across the country, hell, the world, were one bad day away from either Endbringer, or a villain going on a rampage and ruining them, along with everything in the general vicinity.

There was something else as well – he had been all too eager to bury himself in his work, to try and forget that Annette was no longer there, that he really wasn't there for Taylor anyway, he had been simply drifting, he guessed, and how he loathed himself for it now…

"You could still do what's best for your daughter, Mr Hebert." Aria was saying. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but under the circumstances, I believe I can make a command decision. I can make sure that you two are away from here and all this lawless craziness, if you so desire. A nice safe place to get your heads straight, no capes, no heroes and villains tearing the place without a care in the world for the regular people. I can offer your daughter and you a priceless opportunity, and I can promise we won't be throwing her into the fire out of desperation. She will have time to learn how to utilize her powers best, she would have extensive training and support in case once said training is over she decides to return to Earth Bet and be a hero."

"It's a lucrative offer." Danny stated the obvious. "What is in for you? Don't tell me you're doing this of the goodness of your heart."

"Fine, I won't." Aria smirked. "I see a potential in your daughter. The Force brought me to her, Mr Hebert. Like it or now, she will be driven to be something more than a regular girl living an ordinary life. I've felt her fire when she speaks about being a hero. Call it what you will – fate, destiny, the Force… or perhaps it's just your daughter being herself. Sooner or later, she'll find herself out there, on the streets, trying to do what she believes to be the best thing. The only question is if she'll have you in her corner, or if she'll do it behind your back, alone, without training, support structure, neither access to start of the art gear nor backup who would watch her back. Look me in the eyes and tell me that the Wards program would do better by her."

Aria didn't need to speak about the other elephant in the room, the fact that one of Taylor's tormentors might very well be a ward. Oh, what he saw wasn't enough to be conclusive, yet the alien was convinced. Then again, she did have powers of her own, which helped in that regard…

"I'll take you up on your suggestion and won't do anything without first speaking with Taylor." Danny decided.

"That's all I ask, Mr Hebert."

Somehow, he doubted that very much. The way she spoke about Taylor – it was as if she was talking about someone else, not his little girl. God damn it, did he even know Taylor any more? How long has it been since they really talked about anything that mattered?

He knew the answer of that one – back when Annette was still alive…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Imperial R&D Ascension Complex**

**Location classified**

**Coruscant**

Four loader droids carefully moved a pair of stasis pods from the repulsorlift platform they used to move them into the lab. The place simply gleamed with how clean, sterile and new it was, something that did little to betray its sinister purpose.

"Careful now, you don't want to break my new toys..." A hungry voice chided. "They really don't look like much." Zash frowned after sweeping her new test subjects with the Force.

The Sith waited impatiently for the droids to do their things and shooed them away the moment they had the pods standing in their cradles and hooked up to the facility's power-grid. A glare was enough to trigger a response and the fogged transparent covering of the nearest pod cleared from the chilled fog obscuring the face of its occupant.

"They sent me this?!" Zash exclaimed when she saw the dirty human male inside. He looked like a particularly messed up drug addict, nothing to get excited over. "Didn't have the grace to wash him..." She grumbled to herself. "This better be worth it, or I'll make my displeasure felt..." The Dark Lady of the Sith waved a hand and multiple scanners came alive all over the lab. An examination table floated to stand beside her, accompanied by trays with all kinds of instruments necessary to open up this Skidmark and see what made him thick. Another wave and his stasis pod began the thawing procedure.


	18. Chapter 8 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**=MK=**

**Part ****3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**3 January 2011**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Shadow Stalker arrived blithely unaware of the mountain of trouble about to descend upon her head. She walked in behind Armsmaster, hands in the pockets of her costume, slouched, and to all appearances, unaware of anything being amiss. Director Piggot wasn't sure if the reluctant Ward was that messed up in the head, uncaring or simply believed she could talk her way out of this. Well, it was time to measure up and cut her the rope, she would hopefully hang herself with.

"Shadow Stalker, I don't appreciate being lied to, at the best of times." Piggot growled. She tapped a button on her desktop's keyboard and a monitor came down from the ceiling, showing a close in image of the "scout frigate" in lunar orbit. "You've been implicated in an ongoing bullying campaign against one of your fellow students at your school – the same girl you barely knew, the one you claimed to be a friendless loner. The same girl we have reason to suspect triggered just before the Mandalorian's picked her up, and bundled her for medical treatment." Emily jabbed a thumb at the picture of the doom hanging above their collective heads. "The same people who have this pointed at us along with many of its friends. The same people who according to our few still operational thinkers would like their own pet Prahumans to study and use! The same people who might gleefully demand your head on a silver platter, or simply come and take it, in order to buy the loyalty of your victim."

Piggot felt a sense of savage satisfaction when she could see Hess' mouth soundlessly move below her mask, yet no sound came. Armsmaster on the other hand stood stiff as a board, jaw set into a stubborn grimace, which was barely noticeable under his beard.

"Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't wash my hands off of you and deliver you to your richly deserved fate?" Piggot asked aloud. The fucked up thing was that for all the problems it was going to cause domestically, there were a lot of parties discussing throwing Shadow Stalker under the buss if it meant buying time and what passed for goodwill with the aliens. Doing so would be a disaster on almost all fronts – PR, morale, it would set up a terrible precedent… Yet, every time Emily thought about those objections, no matter how much the Sith and this little fool deserved each other, all she had to do was look at the picture of that warship and suddenly most of those objections rang very hollow.

"It wasn't my idea!" Shadow Stalker frantically shook her head and raised her arms in surrender. "I didn't do it, I was at the Rig with the rest of the..." She caught herself up before blurting out a derisive comment aimed at the other Wards, "…kids," the supposed hero added sullenly. "It was all some harmless fun until now! Its not like the teachers didn't know, but they said nothing, did nothing but a few odd detentions and that hasn't happened for months now!"

'Keep digging yourself a deeper hole,' Piggot thought, but waved for Shadow Stalker to continue. She did and judging by the way she blurted things out, she hadn't really thought this through, so this time around, she might even be telling whatever passed for reality within her head.

What followed, was a broken explanation of Shadow Stalker's philosophy – about hunters, prey, about strength, power and the willingness to fight being all important… The more she heard, the more convinced Piggot became that she should get out of her way to keep her own nutcase as far away from the Sith as possible, because otherwise she just might see Hess working for them once they had her properly trained and brainwashed – the latter didn't sound particularly hard, downright easy in fact, considering the logic she apparently believed in. While listening, Emily made a note to find out who did Shadow Stalker's mental evaluation, kneecap them, and throw them over the wall surrounding Elisburg. Then another note, to check what could be done about one of Hess' primary accomplices, one Emma Barnes, the girl who likely pushed Ms Hebert into that locker. She sounded like another nutcase as well, and it was a small mercy she hadn't triggered.

"Shadow Stalker, I'm calling M/S protocols on you, I hope, for your sake, that you've been mastered under our noses." While that would open yet another can of worms no one really needed, it would be a convenient explanation, if true. It was too bad that Piggot didn't believe it for a moment. At least, in this case, it was a great excuse to deal with Shadow Stalker for the time being.

"What!? I'm not Mastered!" Hess snapped up, and took a step towards the Director.

In one smooth motion, Armsmaster removed his halberd from its clamp at the back of his armor, it promptly unfolded once in his grasp, and he struck like a coiled snake, knocking off Shadow Stalker with the built in taser. The Ward went down with a startled gasp and collapsed into a pile of a twitching limbs.

"Director, did you really contemplate handing her to the Mandalorians?" Armsmaster asked in what passed for incredulous voice in his case.

"I did inform our chain of command about this debacle. While we don't have any concrete instructions, it was suggested that we should wash our hands off her if it might prove prudent given the circumstances." Emily made a forestalling gesture. "Don't, I've been thinking about the consequences of this mess ever since it first came to my attention. We lack sufficient information to even make an educated guess about the alien's agenda in this case – all we have are suppositions, theories and wild-ass guesses." Piggot tiredly explained. "Get Stalker into a secure cell and make sure we actually know what she had been up to ever since she came under our authority. Once we've got something solid, we'll see what we can do."

* * *

**=MK=**

**4 January 2011**

**Mandalorian Knights FOB**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Taylor awoke shortly after midnight to find her father dozing on a nearby chair. For a few moments she though she had dreamed it all, yet then that flying robot came over at the other side of her bed and began beeping at her, while waving various blurry things in her direction.

"Taylor!" Her father jumped at the sudden sound and nearly ended up tripping over his own feet in his haste to get up and go to her side, to make sure she was actually all right.

The robot produced a series of indignant whistles and sharp, pointed beeps – nothing complimentary, Taylor was sure. "Dad, what happened?" She asked. "It's all a blur, I'm not sure..." She began to babble, there was just so much going on – things, blurry images, odd sounds, they all clashed and interposed over each other, vying for her attention.

A long suffered beep came from the robot, it moved and a blur touched Taylor's neck. She felt a warm sensation spread through her veins and the panic attack building up within her never materialized.

"Your bedside manner still sucks, I see." A new blurry figure entered the room. This one was bluish, and if nothing else, Taylor recognized the voice. It made her immediately calm down, even faster than the drugs in her system.

"Hey! You drugged me!" She pointed an offended finger at the robot, which whistled at her.

"He said he asked, but of course neither of you can understand him." The top of the new blur moved – a head-shake. "And of course, or medical droid doesn't really care about that, because as far as it is concerned, it's entirely your fault you can't understand it." Sarcasm liberally leaked from every word the woman spoke.

Aria, Taylor's overloaded mind sluggishly supplied. The name came with a feeling of warmth, safety and trust, which wasn't something the teenage girl believed she would ever experience again. Why… Oh… she talked with this woman, spilled her guts in fact, even cried on her shoulder… At those disjoined memories, Taylor felt like sinking into the ground, and barring that, perhaps the blanket would do?

"You seem more or less all right, given the circumstances, Taylor. While this isn't the best of times, I believe that your father and I have something to discuss with you. How does a long vacation away from school sound to you?" Aria asked.

That… Taylor shook her head in a vain attempt to chase off all the buzzing she could hear, and concentrated on the bluish blur. Away from the terrible trio? Right now, even a few days of that sounded like a deal. She said so as well…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**4 January 2011**

**TK-51 flight **

**low orbit**

**Earth Bet**

_Did we actually have a choice?_ Taylor couldn't help herself but ask that question, silently, in the questionable privacy of her room. As soon as the Hebert's agreed and the bleeping robot, droid, whatever, gave her permission to travel, they found themselves slotted to leave with the next shuttle making it to the actual space ship in orbit – which was just a couple of hours later.

The blue woman, Aria, did seem kind and nice, a huge difference compared to the adults she had to deal with for more than a year now. Dad, well, he was there, kind of – and wasn't it sad that this was the best thing she could say about him lately? The teachers, well, the less said about them the better. By now, Taylor had an instinctive mistrust of people, yet there she was – listening carefully to what the alien woman, and wasn't that dozy to wrap your head around – tell them some of the basics necessary not to make fools of themselves… In fact, that was the problem – no one, and Taylor meant that literally, had been so nice and helpful to her since Mom… Sad fact or not, she would have been more at ease, she thought, if she could see the woman's angle! She couldn't be doing this of the goodness of her heart, could she?

Yet, perhaps she didn't need to be a bitch about it, did she? The two of them were stuck into what suspiciously looked like a warehouse turned into military base, complete with a lot of large and armoured soldiers, soldiers with guns that looked like they could simply vaporize here without even trying. In the end, it didn't really matter, did it? Dad might not have been all there, again. He simply agreed, sounded relieved even! Taylor herself, if she had to be honest, she was ready to do almost anything if it meant getting away from school, and more importantly, the terrible trio, even if it was for a few more days.

All Taylor could really recall after the deciding that it might be for the best to go to the so called 'vacation', with all expenses covered by the Freehold, whatever exactly that was, well, it was a sheer whirlwind, the drugs in her systems didn't help her be too cogent. That's how she found herself strapped into a seat, in the back of a shuttle boosting away from Earth.

What struck her most about this whole surreal scene was, how ordinary it all felt. Darn, there wasn't even a bump when the pilot announced that they had cleared the atmosphere and on their way to the moon. It was only now that it began to sink in how deep they unwittingly went – they were on a ship, boosting steadily away from any possible help, if anyone would have been wiling to help the, following where very few humans from Earth had ever gone before – it was a momentous event in the past. Now? It felt so normal, so routine, as if it was no different from driving to the grocery store, perhaps the mall.

It took some time for Taylor to figure out that she hadn't been feeling the buzzing and the other odd sensations ever since they boarded the shuttle and shot into the air. Perhaps the drugs she still swam in, finally did their job?

"Be advised, we'll be docking with the _Nemesis _momentarily. Strap your seatbelts, put away the food trays and for the Star's sake, secure your bloody weapons!"

Taylor looked warily around, her eyes darting to the four other people travelling with them. Two of them were soldiers, fully armoured and armed, while the other pair appeared to be engineers of some sort, who oversaw four containers stowed near the cockpit.

Was it too late to have second thoughts, Taylor wondered.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Oval Office**

**The While House**

**Washington DC**

Unsurprisingly, the current topic plaguing the President was the Mandalorians in Brockton Bay, and their newest escapade. The way things were going over there, it was a not so small miracle that the situation hadn't escalated to orbital strikes. It wasn't much better – with tank battles within an American city that ended up levelling whole city blocks. If that wasn't enough, it wasn't the aliens who brought said hardware, that would have been understandable, excusable even.

No, it was a local _gang _of all people, who had access to equipment that should have been restricted for the sole use of the military, which was just another proof of how naive Hayes was when he ran for office. By all accounts, the Merchants were the weakest gang within that cursed city, they were a complete mess, a joke really, yet they could get their hands on such hardware without anyone being the wiser, or so the multiple reports spread over his desk claimed.

The sad truth was that the whole villain debacle plaguing the United States, Earth really, well that wasn't a law enforcement problem. At best, it had transitioned into an issue that required a full fledged military response, nation wide, if not world wide… a response that could no longer be sustained by the time it dawned on people how bad it really was. Well, it was too late for what ifs now, Hayes had to play with the cards he was dealt, which in this instance meant he had to beg, borrow, boy or if at all possible, steal, all the tech and industry he could to give his nation a chance. He had seen the prediction – unless something was done, within ten to twenty years, the US would collapse, leaving the country to the mercy of feuding Parahumans. If that happened now, the best case would be for the Mandalorians to step in, clean house and take over… something Hayes wasn't going to even hint at aloud.

"Neil, call Marlene and schedule a conference call with Chief Director Costa-Brown and the PRT Director for Brockton Bay, one Emily Piggot I believe. See if one of the Chiefs of Staff would be able to drop in, if not in person, then telepresence." Hayes called his personal assistant, or more accurately, the extensively vetted Parahuman Secret Service agent masking as one.

One way or another, he was going to find out what the hell was going on in that damned city and put a stop to it before the Mandalorians ran out of patience and did it themselves – which might just mean that he would have to explain on live TV why the aliens had to clean up the God damned mess in the first place! He was already losing patience with the constant shenanigans happening over there and he didn't even had to deal with all the bloody fallout in person!

With that task done, and hopefully ready to be resolved without burning down the place from orbit, the President set up to deal with the next item on his constantly growing to do list – figuring out how to explain exactly what was happening to the few credible allies the US had left and try to bring them on board with whatever viable long term policy they could forge to deal with their collective troubles – both on Earth and beyond...


	19. Chapter 8 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Empress' Office**

**Imperial Senate Building**

**Coruscant**

The more things changed, the more they remained the same. Was that really a thing?, Empress Satine Kenobi wondered. Her office for example – it was the same suite that used to belong to Chancellor Palpatine, and countless of his predecessors of the Galactic Republic. The Senate Building itself – it was largely the same structure, if significantly modified, when it was rebuild in the aftermath of the various attacks it suffered during the war. Outwardly, it was largely the same vaguely mushroom shaped structure, it had the same reddish colouration as well. Yet, in that case looks could be deceiving.

The building now had over a hundred anti-air and a dozen light anti-ship weapon emplacements ready to pop up at the first hint of trouble, multiple redundant shield generators, not to mention the horde of security personnel crawling all over the place and generally getting underfoot as a matter of course. Just Satine's own security detail was company strong, with the rest of the battalion nearby ready to act as a quick reaction force. It was all very stifling at the best of times. While she wasn't a stranger to being a target and having bodyguards following her everywhere, nowadays, it was almost ridiculous.

The sad thing was that the extreme security measures were anything but overkill – there were a great deal of people all over the galaxy who would do anything to see Satine, her husband and their little girl dead on principle alone, the utter fools. It was both infuriating and tragic. Even in the event that someone got lucky and managed to kill the three of them, that only meant Veil and Bo-Katan would be crowned, and then, all Nine Corellian Hells were going to be unleashed upon the galaxy. Speaking of the devil…

"What did your crony did this time?" The Empress asked and shifted more comfortably on the visitor's couch she had commandeered the moment her last meeting for the day was over.

"He's not my crony," Obi-Wan grumbled good naturedly. "If anything, he's your problem. He did marry your sister after all. We're friends at best, not particularly close ones at that." Kenobi stood near the panoramic window, which showed a stunning view of Coruscant's sunset, reflected by the orbital mirrors and countless windows upon the distant spacescrapers. From his position, the Jedi could see the ancient building that used to be the Jedi Temple. At a first glance, it hadn't changed much. The only striking difference from the days of the Republic was the four towers surrounding it – they projected holographic images of the Empire's sigil, arranged in a square around a much larger one beamed up from the top of the building itself.

As far as the average citizen was concerned, the purpose of the building hadn't really changed either – it still trained Force Sensitive students on how to use the Force. It was just that they were no longer Jedi, nor did they follow the ancient Code.

The Jedi Temple was the Imperial Knights' Academy now, and Obi-Wan still didn't know what he should feel about that idea. Logically, it made sense. The Empire needed trained Force Adepts, much faster than regular Jedi Training could produce them too, not to mention that the war soured a large part of the galaxy to the very idea of the Jedi, especially here in the Core.

"You're right, the more things change, the more they remain the same." Obi-Wan uttered quietly.

"Did I say that aloud?" Satine hummed. "I don't know where I heard it. As far as Delkatar goes, I've never claimed that my sister has a good taste in men. At least she got what she wanted – a powerful warrior, Mandalore himself no less."

"And you didn't?" Obi-Wan turned around, with an expression of mock-horror plastered all over his face.

"That depends..." Satine shook her boots off her feet and wigged her toes at her husband. "Are you still too busy playing with your soldiers?"

"My job is never done, just like yours." Obi-Wan gave the Jedi Temple one last forlorn glance and went to seat on the couch so his wife could deposit her feet in his lap.

"We got hustled nice and good." Satine moaned when her husband began massaging her feet and legs, using both his fingers and the Force.

"It was the best choice out of a many terrible ones. Can you imagine what Veil would have done if he had to deal with the political mess in the Core after his return from the Rim?"

"I can make an educated guess." Satine shuddered. She had a very good idea – Veil's go to hell plans, as he put it, had a lot of common with some of the Empire's darkest contingencies, the kind the Empress hoped would never be put to use. That man had been ready to set the galaxy on fire, literally, and redefine the term "Mutually Assured Destruction". "I don't like to repeat myself, what is he up to now?"

"You know as much as I do. The preliminary reports are fascinating, but beyond a mere curiosity, I don't see how they really concern us. Even if its true and they've found an alternative version of humanity's home world."

"You haven't seen the black files on that little project of our dear brother-in-law, have you?"

"I can't say I have. Aren't they supposed to be pre-spaceflight culture? What in the name of the Force warrants black files?"

"There's a sealed copy in the top drawler of my desk. Go get it once you're done. My feet take priority."

"As my Empress commands." Obi-Wan chuckled.

"Good boy. To summarize – they have some odd equivalent of Force Adepts, and other assorted strangeness going on. Enough of it to have our resident maniac's undivided attention. She has been getting test subjects." Satine grimaced. "Are you sure we can't do something about that woman?"

"We can do a lot of things about her. I just can't promise a success. Zash isn't someone I'm prepared to antagonize unless I have no other choice. We're speaking about one of the two people who taught Veil all he knows about the Dark Side."

"So what? We just go on keeping her happy and hope one of her experiments doesn't blow up in our faces?"

"It worked for Veil for decades, and before him, for the Sith Empire for about a thousand or so years. We both know that Delkatar didn't actually live through the past four thousand years, and while I do have my doubts about Zash, we do know for a fact that she has been around doing her thing for at least a whole millennium – no hyperspace accidents, no stasis chambers or other convenient shortcuts."

"Just hundreds of bodies she had stolen." Satine grimaced.

"She is the one person alive Veil won't cross lightly. The other one is your sister, because he's fond of her." It was telling that the two of them, Empress, Emperor-Consort and Supreme Commander of the Imperial Military, didn't feature on that very short list.

"The sex can't be that good." The Empress muttered. "Or is it all the running around, murdering people, blowing stuff up and setting everything on fire together?"

"That's one of the things I really don't want to know, though if I absolutely have to, I'll vote for the later. You did show me those pictures of your sister posing proudly with her new war-droid."

"Speaking about things we don't want to know, but perhaps we should, Delkatar has sent a request to have representatives from this Earth Bet included as diplomatic guests for the celebrations both on Mandalore and here, on Coruscant." Satine changed the topic.

"It's not like he need to apprise us, much less our consent to invite people on Mandalore." A tired sigh escaped Obi-Wan's lips. "The man has the Freehold more or less under control, the same can't be said about us and our own lovely political establishment."

As far as many of the movers and shakers in the Core were concerned, they practically owned and ran the Empire, with Satine being little more than a bureaucrat working for them. That was an unacceptable state of affairs even if it was more or less sealed as one of the deals, which made the Empire possible. While there were some idealists, who were in because they believed in the ideals of the New Order, too many saw it as a way to profit and gain power as what little restrains the Republic offered were now gone. It was the height of irony, that a former pacifists like Satine and a Jedi like Obi-Wan, were now playing for keeps, pursuing as much absolute power as possible if for no other reason, because they no longer believed that the bulk of the politicians in the Core could be trusted to look for their own people, much less the Empire's.

That and the fact that neither of them wanted to be a pawn facilitating everything currently going on under the shiny facade of the Empire. One day there would be a reckoning coming… and the Emperor and Empress both looked eagerly towards it and dreaded it in equal measure.

"He wants to subtly awe and scare the locals, the question is why." Obi-Wan eventually said. If his wife noticed his long pause, she didn't comment, instead she merely enjoyed his ministrations.

"The black files will shed some light once you go over them in detail. I'm sure there's more and he'll brief us in person when we arrive back home."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**5 January 2011**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

"The situation over here is simple, Mr President." Director Piggot carefully explained. She was well aware that at best, she was about to commit a career suicide. At worst, well… better not contemplate it right now. "The PRT, Protectorate, police, we're all outnumbered and outgunned in this city. The literal Nazis have more Parahumans on their roster than we have heroes, at least three to four times regular gang members and we've seen them carry military grade weapons the few times the situation looked like it would escalate beyond any reason. Next, we have the ABB – led by a rage dragon who could go toe to toe with an Endbringer, and Oni Lee, who is serial suicide bomber. The only mercy there is that they have no access to tinker-tech munitions." Emily paused for a moment to take breath, blithely ignoring the Chief Director staring daggers at her. "That we know of." She continued. "The one gang we could have handled without unacceptable level of collateral damage were the Merchants… if they didn't bring out tinker made tanks to the fight, and make no mistake, Mr President, it would have been a fight."

"That's an exaggeration, Emily..." Costa Brown began, only to pause, when the President raised a hand.

"The gangsters with tanks, who demolished the docks tend to disagree with you, Rebecca." Hayes said in a deceptively mild tone. "Should I make an educated guess based on reading between the lines?" The President fixed the Chief Director with tired, yet sharp eyes.

"The truth?" For the first time since any of them knew her, Costa-Brown hunched in her seat, the steel she was known for, simply draining from her, leaving behind an ageing, tired woman. "Resources are limited, the situation across the country is steadily deteriorating. We cut off our losses, ignored the aid requests sent by Director Piggot and redirected the few available resources we have to places that we deemed either salvageable or, which we could keep stable for longer. While we could secure Brockton Bay, at least in theory, unless everything goes right, doing so would have caused an unacceptable level of collateral damage and loss of assets better used elsewhere. To Director Piggot's credit, she has managed to keep the situation from collapse in a commendable fashion, nevertheless, baring a game-changer, Brockton Bay is a write off in the long run."

The frank, honest admission gave everyone pause.

"You're all in the know about our long term projections. We've been able to keep the pretence of being in control due to a careful balance of PR, non-intervention and occasional heavy handed action when we couldn't afford not to. If it was just the villains, we might have risked more overt actions against them, however the Endbringers are the bigger problem. We can't fight a two front war, especially when we're already losing the one we've been fighting since Behemoth first appeared." Costa-Brown didn't have to say aloud that many villains did buy themselves a lot of leeway by going to Endbringer fights, like almost the whole roster of the Empire 88. "What would you have me do, Mr President? Let's say that I mobilize everything available and we manage to remove the gangs from that city. Then what? We'll need to maintain heavy presence over there in order to deal with everyone else who would try to move in, people who are currently kept at bay by the local criminal element. I can assure you, the Elite for example would be making moves anyway, they'll sense an opportunity by the recent developments at Brockton Bay. Which city should we risk by removing precious resources for an indefinite period of time?"

"It's irrelevant." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs cut in. The General had been content to merely listen and observe up to that point. "We need to secure the area before our visitors decide to take pre-emptive action to ensure their own security, or one of the remaining gangs do something we're all going to regret. You'll pull off assets from whatever places you need to, so will we. We're faced with both a precious opportunity and a unique danger. This might very well be our last credible chance to reverse the decay before its too late, and we need to seize it."

"I agree." Hayes added. "Director Piggot, what do you need in order to neutralize your gang problem without levelling the city in the process? If we have it, we'll get it to you." As he said that, the President stared flatly at the Chief Director.

"First? A hard counter to Lung. We know for sure that he is far from vulnerable when not ramped up. The last time he went on rampage, it was due to a sniper shooting him in the head. He recovered in a short order and went hunting." Emily explained.

"Perhaps a missile strike?" General Grissom suggested.

"That might not be enough." Costa-Brown played devil's advocate. "If I'm to back up this insanity, then we'll need a workable plan. Perhaps sufficiently powerful tinker-made tranquillizers might be enough to put him out of commission."

"I like that." Hayes looked much more animated and alive now, compared to how he appeared at the start of the meeting. "What else?"

* * *

**=MK=**

**Sundari City**

**Mandalore**

Flying in the back of a military shuttle wasn't conductive to sight-seeing. All that changed when the Heberts disembarked into a cavernous hangar belonging to a proper capital ship – an over a kilometre long titan, which wasn't even the largest warship in orbit of the planet they now stood on.

That by itself was hard to accept, even if they had a great view on the way down – a diplomatic yacht brought them to the surface, using a scenic route to demonstrate that they were really on an alien world. Well, technically they were the aliens here…

"That's just, wow..." Taylor looked around, wide eyed. All kinds of flying machines – cars, buses, cargo haulers, flights of fighters, large freighters and more, came and went, filling the skies above the domed city. Well, the partially domed one – almost half the dome covering the place had been removed, with large chunks of it visible during their approach – they had suffered extensive damage and the locals had simply cut them down, and left them in the desert nearby for the time being. That by itself was highly impressive even to someone like Taylor, who couldn't grasp the full implications – many of those chunks were solid metal larger than their house back home, if not much bigger!

Most familiar, yet surprising, were the giant humanoid robots aiding the reconstruction ongoing all around them – they looked like something that crawled straight out of an anime, from back when Japan, at least on Earth Bet, was still big in that industry.

"This way, please." That came from a rusty-red robot, which was their guide for the time being. He introduced himself as HK-117, a protocol droid in service to Mandalore's own clan.

"HK, can you tell us why are we receiving the VIP treatment?" Dad asked. He had been very quiet ever since their talk before leaving. Taylor wasn't sure if it was awe from all they saw and experienced in such a short time-span, she certainly hoped so! Otherwise, he was withdrawing within himself, again, which would simply suck!

"Well, Ms Hebert here did make my Master's Apprentice notice her. That means she now has the eyes of a few very important people on her. Either that or my Lady is about to pick up another stray. Prideful Statement: She has a great taste in strays!" The robot nodded once in satisfaction as he said that.

"Do I dare ask?" Taylor wondered.

"Well, there's one former Jedi, now an Imperial General, who my Lady sees as an adopted little sister. Then we have my Master's Apprentice, a very fine Lady herself, you're acquainted with her. Next, and certainly not the least, we have Victoria. She needs to be seen and experienced to be believed. You'll be able to at least see it during the celebrations, she'll be arriving along with the Imperial Family..." The robot gleefully explained.

"That's very nice… I think." Dad muttered. "What such an… interest, mean for us?"

"That you or at least, your daughter, might have great potential." The droid turned its glowing eyes towards Taylor, making her fell uneasy. "I'm eager to see for myself what Lady Aria has seen in you, girl."

Taylor didn't really know what to say to that. She was just Taylor, who wanted to be a hero… because she didn't really have anything else left to hope for, until now.


	20. Chapter 9 Parts 1&2

**AN: This update was betaed by Fwee on the space battles forums. Thank you very much for the time and effort you put in clearing it up!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**5 January 2011**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

A small convoy drove into the foggy and snow-covered docks shortly after dawn broke. Three cars – all products of good, old fashioned German engineering – moved into formation, carrying Victor and Alabaster from the Empire 88 and their honour guard. The organization's sympathisers within the PRT had gleaned and relayed some disturbing news which meant that they were now out of time. It was essential that the Empire 88 reached an understanding with the new players, if not an alliance. That was why Kaiser had dispatched Victor after he had spent the last couple of days frantically absorbing every scrap of knowledge that might be relevant about the Mandalorians and the Federated Empire they were a part of. To increase his odds of success, the skill thief spent most of the time researching in the company of some of the best negotiators both the Empire and Medhall had access to, appropriating their skills, and thus increasing his odds of success.

Given the unexpected time constraint he had to work with, Victor was glad that everything he learned about the Mandalorians pointed to them being straightforward people, not particularly keen on the usual diplomatic niceties. Who would have thought that the government would choose this time to move in force on Brockton Bay? That by itself should have been something every true American patriot could be happy about – it was a high time someone finally cleaned up all the undesirable elements from the city. The Mandalorians made a good start of it by removing the stain upon Brockton Bay that were the Merchants, now if only they could work together to deal with the ABB and other undesirables. If they could make the city secure for the first time in decades and show it to the world at large, then that mere fact might be enough to prevent the powers that be from doing something everyone would regret.

Honestly, Victor still found it hard to believe that one of the primary targets of the PRT and the military in the city was going to be their organization! They were patriots, damn it, not like those chinks and goons of the ABB. It wasn't the Empire who nearly burned the whole city on multiple occasions.

Victor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm himself down. This was not the time to let this vexation influence him. He had a very important job to do, a vital one even.

The convoy slowed down soon after entering the docks, looking for a sign of the Mandalorians so they could make contact. It didn't take them long to run into one of the reconnaissance drones – the small machines now flew openly above the docks, scanning the area for any unpleasant surprises – like tinker-supplied tanks. Who would have thought that Squealer could make something that dangerous? That stunt had convinced Kaiser that the Empire needed its own capable tinker - 'now damn it', as he put it - and the organization had put feelers to acquire one; an established man or woman friendly to their cause was something they would prefer, though a new one to recruit would do in a pinch too.

"Sir, we're being tailed by one of those robots – it's flying above us," the driver reported. While young, he was a good man – James kept his cool under pressure and was totally devoted to the cause, like everyone else among the envoys.

"Good, they not only know we're here but are watching us. If they don't make a contact with us in the next few minutes, stop and we'll try talking to the drone." Victor instructed.

"Do you think that they'll come out to meet us?" Alabaster asked.

"Perhaps. We're apparently interesting enough to be already followed. They might keep us waiting, to show who has most of the cards in the coming negotiations." Victor shrugged. He had his instructions, and knew exactly what he could offer once the negotiations began – including an offer, which should at the very least open the door in case the Mandalorians weren't particularly interested in talking today.

The convoy turned right on the next large intersection and they hit the jackpot – a five man team of power armoured soldiers walked slowly their way. Two of those were huge – nearly two and half metres tall, and carrying what appeared to be cut-down tank weapons. The rest were normal sized – the largest, who was on point, couldn't be more than two metres in height, armour and all.

All of them carried some kind of heavy weapon, either in their hands or strapped on their backs. It made sense – after the Merchants of all people managed to bring out tanks, the Mandalorians had obviously broken out the anti-tank weapons. Just looking at them from a distance, Victor wondered how would it feel to hold one, or to shoot it at a group of those chinks.

"James, slow down and stop at a respectable distance. I'll talk with them." The cape ordered. "I'll go out with Alabaster and two people. The rest of you, stay in the cars. We don't want any misunderstandings."

A chorus of "Yes, boss!". followed. Soon the convoy pulled off, Victor casually opened the door and slowly disembarked. He moved with slow, deliberate and unthreatening motions, making sure that the Mandalorians could see his empty hands at all times.

"Good morning, my fine fellows. I am Victor, an envoy representing Kaiser and the Empire 88. We require an audience with one of your leaders."

Two helmets turned to follow him, while the other soldiers continued to scan the surrounding buildings for threats.

"I see." The leader spoke in a mechanical tone that lacked any hint of emotion. "What do you have that might interest us?"

That was less than ideal, though not really unexpected.

"Access to various goods and services that our government might be too squeamish to offer you, provided that we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement, of course." Victor spoke casually, while standing tall and proud. "We can make an educated guess about a few of the items you are most interested in procuring from Earth Bet. The Empire 88 would find it beneficial if some of those are removed from our shores for good and is willing to help you take custody of them. I understand that your organization is looking for lucrative work as well. On that note, we can offer contacts and introductions to the Mandalorian Knights in particular, to facilitate some perfectly legal mercenary contracts."

"Good enough." The patrol leader pointed at the drone floating above their heads. "Follow it, it will lead you to our FOB. It should be obvious, however, that if you cause any trouble, you'll be dealt with. Permanently." The mercenary warned.

"Understood. Have a nice day." Victor answered with a polite smile. "You heard the fellow. Let's follow the drone."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Ascension R&D Complex**

**location classified**

**Coruscant**

For years now, Obi-Wan had done his best to avoid Darth Zash when she was doing "science". That was the one real passion the woman had- well, beyond 'trolling' people as Delkatar put it, which was a very odd way to describe her actions. The Jedi was sure that said expression was a hint about Veil's obscure origins, however all inquires he had made on that front came to a dead end, including an extensive, yet quiet research into the various oddities and hints offered by the man over the years they were acquainted.

Kenobi left his security detail behind the heavy armoured doors separating Zash's lab from the rest of the complex. They didn't need to see whatever new horrors the impossible woman had committed, nor her attitude – while they were good boys and girls, Obi-Wan didn't need any new rumours starting. Especially when he knew he would be damn tempted to do something he might not live to regret. That woman loved to push his buttons at the best of times, and today was shaping up to be anything but.

The Sith was too excited when she called, all but demanding his presence, which was never a good sign.

The doors sealed behind Obi-Wan, leaving him in a decontamination chamber. This was his last chance to brace and centre himself for whatever he was about to find – which was going to be terrible, he could already feel the Dark Side clinging upon the place and at least two people suffering in there. A short bout of meditation, various mental exercises, reminding himself what he had to live for and what he would lose if he lost his temper… all those things barely helped when the inner doors opened to reveal the lab.

As a Jedi, Obi-Wan knew he should have considered Zash an enemy as a matter of course. Even in these complicated times, what she did without a second thought in pursuit of her research meant that he had the legal right to either imprison or see her dead. Everything Kenobi used to stand for- everything he believed in, his very heart screamed at him to do something, to end the atrocity in front of him. His fist reflexively clenched and he subconsciously drew upon the Force, making the air around him pulse with its energy and his armoured robes shake as if tugged by nonexistent wind.

"You're late." Zash grumbled, tearing Obi-Wan's eyes from the latest horror she had committed.

There were two men left under her most unkind ministrations - one, while in agony, felt like an empty shell. While the body could still experience pain and sent the nerve impulses to the brain, there was no longer anyone home to care, which was a small mercy. The Emperor-Consort dearly hoped that he had been that way on arrival, otherwise his mind had likely broken and shut down for good while he had been vivisected. He was on a raised table, which leaned forward, displaying his open torso, organs, and even brain. Force fields kept him in place, while a bio-sterilization field encased him, keeping the germs away from his raw flesh.

The other one was worse if that was even possible – he was very much aware of what was happening to him. He looked even worse, though Obi-Wan wasn't sure that he could fully credit that to the Sith. Even a cursory glance revealed that he had been in bad shape for at least some time, perhaps longer than Zash had had him.

Said Sith turned critical eyes upon Obi-Wan and clicked her tongue. "Another morale attack?" She all but crooned at him. "It's such a quiet thing to fall, isn't it? There wasn't one big decision that marked it, you didn't suddenly become the man standing before me, eager to strike me down in righteous anger. It was a slow, gradual process, wasn't it?" Zash licked her lips as if looking at a particularly juicy morsel that she was about to snap up.

"I hope, for your sake as well as mine, that this isn't just for your fun." And just like that, with a few harmless words, especially if taken out of context, the Sith almost destroyed Kenobi's composure, or what little he had left once he laid eyes on her latest "project".

"Not just for fun, no." Zash pouted. "I keep telling you, lover boy, you can have your cake and eat it too, just as I kept telling that to my former Apprentice until it finally clicked for him. Don't worry, you appear to be a bit brighter than him, so you should get it faster than he did."

"Enough. We both know that you have little interest in fucking Satine and me." Kenobi glared. "Beyond screwing with our heads out of boredom, and you are no longer bored, apparently."

"Don't be like that. The things I could teach you two..." Zash licked her lips and stared at Obi-Wan with smoky eyes.

"You obviously want something. Spit it out," Kenobi bit off.

"Fine, be like that. We'll make a new man out of you, one of these days, keep my words close to your heart." In a heartbeat, Zash's bearing changed radically, and she was all business. "These new toys Delkatar sent me are very, very interesting." She walked away from a large table covered with all kinds of advanced and expensive lab equipment, and went to her still-aware victim. "This here is Skidmark." Zash scrunched her nose as if she had just smelled something vile. "He's what the locals of Earth Bet call a Parahuman. He had access to some very interesting abilities, which aren't based upon the Force. Abilities, which he lost soon after arriving in our dimension..."

"I'm aware of the basics." That much was in the black files he read last night. "Figuring out the source of said abilities, and a way to safely harness them would be a great boon for the Empire. Perhaps enough of one to overlook what you've already done in its pursuit..." Obi-Wan trailed off, struggling with himself not to lash out at the infernal woman. It would be so easy, as she was distracted looking covetously at the exposed brain of her victim…

"And science I am yet to conduct in order to make such a future reality." Zash turned around, eyes blazing with a sick orange light. "The Dark Side is singing with possibilities…" The Sith smiled wickedly. "I foresee the chance of great boons and equally great danger. The coming months and years will be glorious!" She purred and shook with excitement.

If that woman had one thing she was forever faithful to, it was Science, with capital 'S'. Morals did not need to apply, in fact they were to be surgically removed so they wouldn't get in the way.

Damn her, and damn him, for even contemplating letting her experiment on any more people!

"It's such a quiet thing to fall, it could be deliciously slow and insidious, couldn't it?" Zash stopped daydreaming and focused her smouldering gaze upon Obi-Wan. "Well, at least as far as the other Jedi are concerned. How does it feel to have fallen, Obi-Wan, yet not fallen far enough? It's all relative after all."

Again, Zash asked that cursed question, and once again, Kenobi refused to answer. He knew only two things for certain as far as said answer was concerned. One, the man who he used to be, the Jedi Master, he would be horrified at what he had become, what he had done, and almost as bad- or perhaps worse- what he allowed to happen on his watch.

If he asked that man, Obi-Wan knew the answer – he had fallen, betrayed what he stood for, his friends, the state he swore to serve, the people of the whole galaxy.

Second, as far as Veil, Zash and now- that man's Apprentice- were concerned, he hadn't really fallen. They had seen Sith who they had deemed fallen to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan held no illusions – if he had gone on the deep end according to them, they would have already removed him from the board, something he had mixed feelings about.

The real question was how he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Emperor-Consort, happy husband, and happier father, felt about it all, and that was a question he was terrified to answer, because saying it aloud… well, doing it, admitting it openly, it felt like would be crossing a bridge he wasn't sure he would be ever ready to cross. Because answering that question would mean that he would have to make a choice between the Jedi he still believed himself to be and his family… which, deep down, he already knew was a lie. He had made that choice some time ago, made that same choice again and again over the last few years, yet saying it aloud, admitting it, especially to either Zash or Veil…

"Haven't we been dancing around this for too long already, Obi-Wan?" Zash chided. "You've made your choices. The galaxy is both better and worse for them." She raised her hands and moved them up and down as if they were scales. "Perhaps it would have been better for some if you walked a different path, however it would have been worse for others. I've communicated with Delkatar, Kenobi. This new dimension his people stumbled upon, it holds a lot of answers and even more questions. You need to watch certain pieces of their entertainment, they provide insights to a future that would never be."

Zash's words snapped him out of his thoughts. "How do you know this?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Talk with Delkatar and his little Apprentice. Then you'll see what you fear to face..." Zash smiled wickedly. "And I wonder, if you'll have any regrets afterwards..."

"I always have regrets after speaking with you." Or about her. Or even hearing about her…

"Well, let's make sure you won't leave disappointed. It's presentation time and Skiddy here will help!" Zash chirped happily and as she spoke, the metal table Skidmark was strapped on along with all the surrounding equipment moved forward, guided by the woman's will.

The only thing Skidmark could move were his terrified eyes, which turned upon Obi-Wan, pleading for release in death.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**5 January 2011**

**Mandalorian Knights FOB**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Empire 88 – it was such a pretentious name. The 'envoys' from that organization came in, representing an ideology discredited decades ago, the creed of incompetent failures at that. That was what Aria had gathered from the briefing packages Lisa had prepared on the local gangs. Despite that, this 'Empire' enjoyed a broad support across some sections of the local population, had a lot of foot soldiers and of all the syndicates operating in this city, possessed the largest number of Parahuman assets. According to Lisa, they had close ties to a parent organisation in Europe, the continent across the ocean to the East, where said organization was busy trying to relive old glories and as far as she could figure out – try to do things right this time around.

Generally, they were a major pain in everyone's ass. The only relevant question was if they could be of use to Aria's Master, the Freehold, and the Federated Empire, in that order. If not, or if they failed to prove themselves useful enough, they would have to go, with their Parahuman assets neutralized, preferably captured and send for study.

The Sith met the envoys outside the warehouse – they would need to make a good enough offer if they wanted to get inside and begin serious negotiations. The Empire representatives were just like the scout droids showed them – three slick black ground cars, full of footsoldiers, who had to count as some kind of honour guard. A show of resources and commitment perhaps? From what Aria had learned, the only relevant people in this group would be the Parahumans. Two of them were obvious – the ridiculous costumes the so-called 'capes' insisted on wearing was a dead giveaway. The only question there was if they had a plainclothes backup, hiding among the muscle. A cursory scan revealed nothing, just curiosity, determination, conviction and a surprisingly small amount of fear. Either they didn't knew better or Aria was giving them too little credit…

The Parahumans were easy to recognize from the briefings – there was only one known entity in the city with such white, almost marble-like skin, who had hair in that shade as well. Alabaster, a so-called brute, able to reset himself from all kinds of damage. If things got interesting, he was a prime target to contain and ship away as another gift for Zash – after the last conversation with her Master, Aria was determined to keep the crazy Sith Lady happy and as far away from here as possible. More gifts might do it, especially if she threw some tinker-tech as a bonus.

The other cape was more concerning – not because of the physical danger he represented, but because of his insidious ability to steal skills. The good news there was that he wasn't Force Sensitive. Otherwise, Aria would have been damn tempted to dispose of him on the spot – she wasn't giving her hard earned skills and the power that came with them if she could help it! If she sensed anything off, she would be dealing with the tall blond man ASAP. At least he had somewhat sensible taste for a costume – black pants, black armoured vest- which might stop slughthrowers, though the Sith doubted it could even slow down a military blaster - and oddly enough, a bright red blouse underneath – as if to make him an easier target.

"Good morning. I am Victor, an envoy from the Empire 88. I've been entrusted to represent Kaiser in these negotiations." The Parahuman actually bowed – at least he had learned, or stolen, manners from somewhere. "My associate is Alabaster." He introduced the brute.

"I'm Aria Veil, Sith Apprentice, representing my Master, Mandalore. Gentlemen, do tell me why should I give you the time of day? What can you do for Mandal Motors and my Master?" The Sith inquired, while carefully examining the negotiators through the Force.

"I won't waste you time, My Lady." Came the suave response. "We believe that you're interested in appropriating Parahumans, either to serve you or to study. We're ready and eager to assist you in that endeavour. In this city alone, there are multiple Parahumans which we would prefer to be removed one way or another. You already made a magnificent start with the Merchants. We offer information and assistance in neutralizing the ABB: both its capes and the rank and file, as well as any smaller groups operating in the Brockton Bay area, including independent capes."

"You do have my attention for the time being. Keep talking." Aria allowed. Curiously enough, the man believed everything he was saying. His little syndicate could only benefit from their competition being removed, what did they care if the opposing side ended up dead or on Zash's vivisection table? As a bonus, they stood to gain a lot too – a monopoly over the organized crime in the area, that much was a given if all their powered opposition suddenly vanished. That in fact was a point in their favour – with the relevant crime on this world being committed by Parahumans, it was only good sense to either be allied with the local syndicate, or take it over and run it yourself, which as events on Coruscant provided, would create a lot of intelligence gathering opportunities, and neutralize an avenue for messing with your own operations as well.

The small fact that the Empire's racists saw anyone who wasn't pale as beneath them, well, if it became an issue this syndicate could be either educated to the error of their ways, or removed and replaced once they've been of use. It wasn't like Aria hadn't worked with much worse in the past.

"As I told your soldier, if you're really interested in above the board contracts, we can offer contacts, make introductions and provide intelligence on various local threats, competition, and so forth. Despite what certain parties claim, we are much more than a simple gang." Victor said.

Aria struggled to not roll her eyes. She had heard it before, from syndicates that controlled the organized crime on whole worlds, even multiple systems or entire sectors.

They didn't impress her. The less said about Victor's boast, the better. With an effort of will, Aria kept a polite, disinterested mask on and waved him to continue.

"We can offer you access to contacts selling tinker-tech, including people who are trying to find and recruit tinkers – both here and in Europe." The cape continued.

"What do you expect in exchange?" Aria asked. It wasn't a bad offer, though any dealings might have to be handled under the table to avoid unnecessary political entanglements, both with elements on Earth Bet and back home if, or when they learned about the truth of this place.

"At a minimum, we'll require a non aggression pact between our organizations, trade links as well. In the long run? I believe than an alliance might be to our mutual benefit."

"I see. It is an interesting offer." Aria stated blandly. "Just interesting enough to convey it to my superiors. Keep in mind, that we have in our ranks people of many species and cultures. They are all Mandalorians. Any deal we might make in the future will be dependant on your people behaving themselves. Any acts against our personnel will be met with swift and terrible retribution."

"Kaiser expected as much. While we can't guarantee that one of ours won't make a fool of themselves, we can assure you that if something like that happens, we'll make an example of said person. Depending on the offence, we might hand them to you for your judgement." Victor hurried to agree.

Again, Aria could sense no deception. It was refreshing for a criminal syndicate to play things straight. On the other hand, she could feel spikes of anger and unease among the muscle when they heard that last point.

"Good. I'll relay your offer to my Master and CEO Yomaget. They'll make the final decision. You can find your own way out of the docks."


	21. Chapter 9 Parts 3&4

**AN: This update was betaed by Fwee on the space battles forums. Thank you very much for the time and effort you put in clearing it up!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Imperial High Command**

**Coruscant**

Mandalorians striding through the corridors of one of the most heavily defended buildings in the Empire was a regular occurrence nowadays, nothing that would raise eyebrows like it did a few years ago. Some of them were Imperial personnel, others served with the Freehold and were either temporarily transferred between the services or were present as part of the contingent coordinating between the Imperial Military and the Freehold's armed forces. The third and smallest group generally belonged to Kenobi's security detail – acting as a sort of an additional honour guard for the Imperial Family. Occasionally, a few of those played the role of personal messengers carrying sensitive information between the Imperial Family, Mandalore, and those few they explicitly trusted. This last service tended to cause the odd snag when it ran into particularly paranoid members of the Kenobis' security, and sometimes it took the Emperor's personal intervention to smooth ruffled feathers.

Like today. At least this time his security had a tangible reason for their paranoia, he decided, after watching a security feed of what Veil had sent him.

"If that's a bomb, it could be big enough to level the damn building, sir. We already suffered an almost successful decapitation strike during the war!" Cody insisted. That particular mess played no small part in both Veil's and Obi-Wan's own rise within the ranks – the CIS neutralizing a lot of the high ranking military officers on Coruscant did open a lot of vacancies, obviously.

"I'm sensing no danger from that package." Kenobi said after staring at its image. The collet was large – perhaps the largest one Veil had ever sent through these channels. "Any idea what it is, or is the information restricted?"

"We did ask that much, sir." Cody grumbled. "Your eyes only. Once you've gone over the contents, it will be up to you to decide how widespread you should make the information." The Clone paused. "There's something else as well, sir – you should see it before the Empress does and decide how to break the news to her."

"That certainly sounds ominous." Kenobi frowned. What was Veil up to this time? "Get it into a shielded space, we do have a few for such locations beyond the inner shields, right?" Obi-Wan asked. Not having them had been an oversight. They'd neglected to add such measures when they'd renovated the building to serve its current purpose, and he couldn't recall whether that had been fied or not.

"Got them installed and operational two months ago, after the Bothans tried to blow you up for the fifth time, sir."

"We don't know that. A few extremists don't define the position of their whole people. aren't necessary working with the blessing of the new Bothan Council. At least that's what Intelligence tells us." Kenobi pointed out. It was an old argument between him and his security. "Bothan terrorists aren't equivalent to all remaining Bothans." Even if ImpSec had to watch all Bothans within the Empire just in case...

When he stopped to think about it, the number of people who wanted him and his family dead, either because of what they did, or because of their association with Delkatar, was simply staggering. Most notable, and fanatical for that matter, were the Bothans, whose home world was destroyed by Veil when their previous government threw in their lot with the Confederacy and betrayed the Republic. Next came a lot of angry people from Sullust – while Veil went for legitimate military targets there, a great number of civilians perished when he wrecked the industry around the gas giants in the system, not to mention the unpleasant consequences of igniting one into a brown dwarf… The list went on and on, and unfortunately, both as a Supreme Commander of the GAR, later the Imperial Military, and Emperor-Consort, Obi-Wan himself was responsible for a great deal of butchery, which made him a target for grieving family and friends.

A few minutes later, droids brought the package into a shielded bomb disposal room, security made sure that the building's defences were up and running, and finally a disposable droid cracked the seals open. It revealed a data-pad and a lot of smaller, tightly packed packages. The droid scanned everything, confirming that Veil wasn't about to go add another regicide to his resume as an opening bid to take power within the Empire. No surprise there – if there was one thing Kenobi knew bout that man without a shadow of a doubt, it was that Delkatar didn't want the job of Supreme Commander, with all the associated politics,, nor Satine's.

"Bring them up to my office. Are you both happy now?" Obi-Wan turned away from the camera feed to look at Cody and Veil's representative – a tall, lanky woman he had met a few times before, when she acted as a part of Mandalore's personal guard. Cynthia Ordo, he thought her name was.

"It will do." The woman shrugged, in a way that implied that this development was less than ideal.

"You're still in one piece and the building continues to stand." Cody pointed out the obvious. "So long as this state of affairs fails to change, I'm happy, sir."

"You two do know that if I was a less reasonable man, I would have considered this a waste of my time and found both of you a 'fun' detail so you could ponder on the errors of your ways, right?" Obi-Wan asked in exasperation.

"If you were such a man, sir, I might not be so diligent in my duty to keep you alive, sir." Cody answered.

"There's that too." Kenobi nodded. How many times had Cody saved his life by now? Four, five? He honestly lost track back during the war when he still occasionally saw action.

"Six, but who is counting?" The Clone said as if reading his mind, which was perhaps not too far from the truth – they had served together since the beginning of the war.

"Is that all, or do you have something else for me, Sergeant Ordo?" Kenobi asked.

"I'm to wait in case you've got a message to send after you've gone over the package, sir."

"Cody, do see that the Sergeant and her people are settled in. I don't believe I'll have the time to go over that until later this evening."

He had budget meetings to attend and those he expected to run long past their marked end point, as usual.

* * *

**=MK=**

It was about ten in the evening when Obi-Wan could finally get away from his duties. He had checked the data-pad Veil sent with the packages and once it became obvious that the data inside wasn't time-critical, decided he would deal with it once his more pressing duties were done. Kenobi settled in his office, went through the contents of the data pad, which were in fact fascinating, yet disturbing. Now it became clear why Delkatar had such an interest in Earth Bet, beyond the Parahumans and the boon they could potentially become for the Empire.

Who would have thought possible that a primitive version of humanity's home world, one from a different dimension no less, could know about their galaxy and the events unfolding there, both recent and from the distant past…

"You know, I've implied that I had visions of a possible future, back when I served the Sith Empire. Some of those were about this time period, which out of context made absolutely no sense back then, until one bright day I ended up jumping into the future, and you know the rest. From what I could gather, these 'Star Wars' present a rough plausible account of what could have happened if it wasn't for the Old Republic Remnant and my own intervention." A recorded message from Veil said, giving Obi-Wan a lot of food for thought. "As far as I've seen, the available date generally aligns with what my visions suggested, so it might be a genuine look into an alternative future. I have had a few of my people go over them and compile certain important segments, which are on the marked device on top..."

Once some technical difficulties were resolved, Veil would be sending these records on proper modern hardware, though until then anyone wanting to see them would have to rely on devices built on Earth Bet.

Obi-Wan was both fascinated and concerned about what Veil had stumbled upon, especially because he did sound concerned when he strongly suggested that Kenobi watch the highlights alone. That man was usually blunt and often uncaring about how others felt, about anything really.

Following the instructions, Obi-Wan unpacked and activated a large personal computer, one which did have a slick design yet appeared incredibly fragile with its polymer construction. Navigating to the relevant video file and running it was a simple affair.

Watching its contents was anything but.

Kenobi saw the familiar sight of the audience room in Sundari's Royal Palace – which had been demolished years ago along with the palace itself, and was yet to be rebuilt. Maul, that bastard, sat upon the throne, with his brother at his side and a handful of Death Watch renegades standing around as an honour guard. What got his blood boiling was an accurate enough representation of Satine – on her knees, with her hands bound behind her back.

He watched the brief conversation between an animated image of himself, one that sounded and acted as he used to… saw Maul murder Satine, while he simply stood there and did nothing, and scoffed, even as anger surged through him, lighting up a furnace within his heart. Was it a fear from the Dark Side that stopped his hand then and there? He couldn't see himself in that position, letting things unfold that way.

Kenobi knew if he was there, not that pale shadow, he would have crushed the soldiers with the Force and unleashed his wrath upon Maul and Opress before they could harm a hair of his wife's head! Just like he did when they actually went after his family. Obi-Wan had fought them both… and he had used the Dark Side fuelled by his emotions in that fight. Was that the difference between him and that man on the screen? He could feel the Force stirring as he watched the video compilation unfold, animated clips changing to actual actors playing roles, including one who could have been his twin. He sensed that what these videos showed was a future which could have been, not a mere speculation, which if true, would have startling implications.

He watched a Republic and Confederate fleet clash above Coruscant, saw himself race along Anakin to rescue the Chancellor who had been kidnapped by Grievous and Dooku… who both were alive and more or less whole at what turned out to be the final months of the war. A very different future indeed.

He saw Palpatine trusting Anakin with his secret, the Jedi trying to arrest him without a proof that he was anything but a Sith – a twisted repeat of the coup they really attempted, if obviously much less prepared. Of course, who would have thought that Sith or not, Palpatine could have stood up to four Jedi Masters, if they hadn't seen someone like Veil fight?

Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar and Saesee Tiin died within moments, without even comprehending what they faced. Mace on the other hand – he put up an exemplar fight, demonstrating how devastating his Vaapad could be against a Sith. That fight did turn out to be easier than Obi-Wan expected; he knew for a fact that during the coup attempt, Palpatine and his security dealt with a lot more Jedi and many traitors who supported them before Windu could cut down the Chancellor.

There was no large battle, no diversions to keep the GAR from responding – simply a duel, one which Palpatine lost, moments before Anakin arrived. What followed made Obi-Wan glad he was already sitting behind his desk. He saw Anakin turn on Windu, who predictably attempted to execute the Chancellor instead of taking him into custody. Then everything turned wrong, for more reasons than Obi-Wan cared to contemplate at that time.

He couldn't really fault Anakin for stopping Windu from executing the Chancellor out of hand, even if he knew very well exactly how dangerous a Sith could be. He could certainly fault him for what he did in the aftermath.

What followed, well it both answered many questions that Obi-Wan had about Palpatine, yet at the same time, it didn't. Perhaps the rest of the materials would, once he had time to go through them in depth.

After all, he wasn't surprised when Palpatine called Order 66 into effect – the Jedi tried to murder him after all. Say what you will about the man, it was a logical response. That was why that contingency was there in the first place, and all things considered, after seeing the horrors of a real war, Obi-Wan couldn't fault the people who thought of it. Jedi did fall to the dark side in wars and if they did, they had to be stopped as soon as possible.

The next segments weren't any easier to watch – Mundi, Secura, so many others never saw the betrayal coming. A few had a moment of warning, just enough to try and fight, only to be mowed down by their own troops. Yoda did make it out alive in that possible future, which was one of the only pleasant surprise so far… yet the hits kept coming.

A short clip of Anakin- now calling himself Vader- marching on the Temple came next, with a whole legion of infantry in support – who wore old style armour without all the nice equipment that now came in as standard and had been for years… It was a small thing really, yet it further reinforced how different, yet similar, this alternative future was. It was familiar, horrifying and hard to believe all at once.

Anakin couldn't have fallen that easy, nor that fast, could he? Then why in the name of the Force did that version of him slaughter the younglings?! That made no sense whatsoever… Was that added just as propaganda, to highlight how the Dark Side could twist a man? Or was it the truth, could Anakin fall that hard and low under the wrong circumstances?!

Mustafar was next, the conclusion of the short highlights. Obi-Wan watched himself fight Vader, and honestly, he didn't know what his counterpart might have been thinking. The way both of them fought was… well, it was a good way to get themselves killed. Too many acrobatics, it was raw, pure clash of blades, not how either of them would have fought at the closing months of the war – say what you will about the Sith, and the few holocrons the Jedi failed to recover from the Temple, they could be decent teachers if they deemed it worth their time.

Was this how both of them would have been if not for Veil and the Remnant? Did drawing on your emotions and dabbling in certain forbidden knowledge make that much of a difference?

Obi-Wan sighed. Yes, it obviously did, even if it was a perilous path.

The end of that duel was underwhelming and foolish. Vader proved himself arrogant, paid the price… and instead of either ending him on the spot or capturing him, that Kenobi simply left him to burn alive – what he might have been thinking, Obi-Wan had no idea whatsoever, which was apparently a new trend with him...

Did Zash know about this? Did Veil share his visions about the future with her? Did Delkatar foresee this insane future Obi-Wan had just watched unfold if it wasn't for his and the ORR's meddling? These were just a few of the questions racing through his mind when the video came to an end. Obi-Wan needed answers, and he needed to decide how to break this news to Satine. She wouldn't appreciate watching a version of him simply standing and observing her execution, when she knew for a fact that he could have done something, likely saved her.

"It's a quiet thing to fall..." Obi-Wan repeated Zash's words.

Did she know about this when they spoke last? Or did she just foresee something? She was Veil's former Master, they did share a connection, it could be either, or both.

He would have to talk with her, again and soon, something he wasn't looking forward to. Obi-Wan shook his head and glanced at the still-packaged computers and data disks. He was apprehensive of delving into their contents if they were anything like he just saw. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Breaking this to Satine would take some planning. Then there were the Skywalkers, he wasn't looking forward to Padme watching what her husband could have done because of her. His escapade during the Second Battle of Geonosis was bad enough.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Royal Palace**

**Sundari City**

**Mandalore**

Sabine repeated some curses she learned on the long march out of Sundari during the siege when she caught herself and looking warily around to see if her aunt and uncle were around. She did it out of reflex – the reason she cursed in the first place was because there was no one home to meet her. Neither of them, nor her two older adopted sisters would approve of said language and the last thing she needed was more discipline! She had enough of that during the two weeks of junior ranger training, thank you very much!

With their residence being empty – with the exception of the heavy security detail, of course, the young girl found herself bored, and looking for trouble. Her partners in crime were back with their Clans, and wouldn't be free to go out to do something fun for the next few days at least. She could have taken a longer bath and simply relaxed, however she was full of energy and raring to go! Besides, browsing the net was the only fun there was to be during the training and she felt like doing something else tonight! She knew that the Clan who adopted her was small, and everyone was busy, but this was getting a bit too much… Where was everyone anyway? Sabine grumbled, went to the kitchen to get a snack, and a bribe for the guards to milk them for details. They had to have some idea where everyone else was!

Sabine skulked around for a bit, scouting who was on duty and when she saw Corporal Wreav patrolling the halls, she grinned and ran for the kitchens. He was cool, huge, and one of the few Wookies to become Mandalorians she knew of. Wreav was always hungry and ready for a snack too, which made him an excellent source of information – he was a huge gossip too, and knew everything of note that was happening!

She grabbed two chocolate waffles for herself, and a large piece of smoked meat for information gathering purposes and skipped away seeking her victim. Little did she knew that the officer in charge of security that evening was on the ball, noticed her behaviour, not to mention the familiar glean in her eyes, and was already busy making a few calls… and getting on the betting in how much trouble Sabine would land herself this time.

"Wreav!" Sabine skipped next to the huge Wookie, who was so broad he had trouble passing through some smaller doors, especially when clad in his "light" armour – which would be considered heavy for anyone more reasonably sized.

The Corporal answered in an exasperated growl, one that might have sounded a bit like a whine. Nevertheless, his nose didn't fail to twitch at the familiar scent of smoked meat, and he turned around to see the slip of a girl skipping down the corridor towards him.

"I'm baaaack!" Sabine drawled happily and waved her sacrificial offering. "And I come bearing gifts!"

Wreav roared quietly in a greeting, his eyes tracking the meat she so enticingly dangled in front of him.

"I'm bored!" Sabine declared the words, which certain members of Mandalore's security detail had learned to dread. "Will you kindly offer me some company while I have a bite to eat?" She waved the bribe again. "Where is everyone anyway?"

Wreav rumbled in resignation when his commander cut into the conversation over his comm, then perked up once he heard what the LT wanted. The Wookie answered with a few short rumbling growls and snatched the meat.

"Out testing their Basilisk Droids? When did they get themselves Basilisks and why wasn't I there?!" Sabine exclaimed, the waffles in her hands forgotten. For that matter, why didn't she have one! All her friends would be so envious! The things she could do with a Basilisks…

Wreav took a large bite of the bribe shook his head at the little girl, and produced a soft rumbling sound from deep within his drum-like chest.

"I'm not drooling!" Sabine snapped out of her gleeful daydreaming. "I'm really not!"

The Wookie finished up his snack and went on to explain what he was allowed to.

"Aria's on assignment, I get it. I hope she'll have some cool stories to tell me when she's back!" Sabine bounced at that news. "Vicky won't be here until Victory day, bringing my other aunt and uncle, that's going to be smashing, I hope…" She frowned. "What am I supposed to do now?" Sabine scrunched her forehead as she thought and absent-mindedly took a bite of her waffle. She perked up and grinned. "Wreav, is HK around at least?" Uncle Veil's had the coolest droid ever!

The Wookie explained in a long suffered tone. This wasn't going to end well, he just knew it.

"What do you mean he's babysitting? We're talking about the same HK, right? Almost as tall as your shoulder, red, likes weapons almost as much as I do, has the coolest stories ever and is always ready to teach me even cooler things! That HK!"

Wreav grumbled in affirmative.

"Babysitting. HK." Sabine dead-panned, the very idea was so ridiculous, her mind refused to compute it.

The Wookie swore on this ancestors that he was telling the truth, which was enough to bring the kid's mind out of its loop.

"This I've got to see." Sabine grinned, displaying two rows of chocolate stained teeth. "And I'm going to bring up a camera..."


	22. Chapter 9 Parts 5&6

**AN: This update was betaed by Fwee on the space battles forums. Thank you very much for the time and effort you put in clearing it up!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Republica 500**

**Temporarily Imperial Residence**

**Coruscant**

Almost everything Obi-Wan did these days came under extreme scrutiny, with people finding meanings in his actions, which simply weren't there. More often than not, what reporters, and the random fellows on the holonet made of his affairs depended on their point of view and biases, not on any tangible facts – a sad truth Kenobi doubted he would ever learn to live with, instead of endure. How he walked, what he wore, what he said, where he lived, people took it out of context, dissected it and presented their read to the galaxy at large.

The Imperial Residence on Coruscant for example – there were many reason to choose the Republica building, many more not to as well. Ultimately, it was a statement, and a pledge from the Imperial Family – they hadn't forgotten what they fought for, they still kept the ideals of the Republic close to heart, etc… In reality, the reason why Obi-Wan was on board with the choice, which he left to Satine, their PR people and the security detail, was simple. Anakin lived in the building and that boy needed close adult supervision at the best of times. That night, Kenobi was very glad for the choice – it allowed him to ensure that the Skywalkers could covertly arrive in his living room, where he had set up one of those Earth computers ready to show a short summary of his own making. The only one missing was Satine herself, who should be arriving shortly, once she was done for the day.

Padme marched in the room, with Anakin on her heels. "The children are both tucked in their beds and under the close watch of their security. They're also as far away from this room as practical as you requested, Obi-Wan. Care to enlighten us why do you expect someone to lose their composure tonight?" The Senator demanded.

"I do expect that tempers will be high tonight." Kenobi admitted. "This isn't the best way to break the news, however I suspect that we'll be even busier than expected in the coming weeks and moths. We'll need to get this out of the way, and deal with the fallout so we can continue moving forward." That was the plan anyway. It didn't take a tactical genius to figure out that it would fly out of the airlock soon after he started showing the highlights.

"Anakin, did you do something I need to know about?" Padme turned her head and raised one very expressive eyebrow at her husband, who spluttered denials.

"I've been good for months now! No scandals, no combat, nothing!"

The Senator returned her attention to Obi-Wan and fixed him with a glare. "Then its you two's favourite partner in crime. Did he burn down another world? Please, don't tell me he invaded this Earth Bet or something?!"

"To the best of my knowledge no one has invaded anything lately." Well, nothing they should care about. Even with the galaxy at peace, there were constantly at least a few dozen low level conflicts and civil wars smouldering all over the place. Just nothing that should deserve the personal attention of the people in the room.

"You didn't deny Veil's involvement!" Padme accused.

"He is the source of our issue, well the one who provided the information anyway. Once Satine arrives, we'll have to watch certain recordings. Please, keep your questions to yourselves until then. But first, I must insist that you hand me any weapons you managed to smuggle through security."

Anakin hurried to offer his best innocent look, which reminded Obi-Wan of simpler times.

"Really?" Padme's voice came out drier than the desert around Sundari.

"Really. I would very much prefer that you won't try to stab or shoot my former Padawan while my wife is in the room."

"What?! Obi-Wan?!" Anakin exclaimed, while his wife whirled around, halting him in his tracks with a withering look.

"It's not something he had done lately, that much I can assure you, Padme." Its what he didn't do this time around, and what he might have done just before the war began, after all.

Before Obi-Wan could be engulfed by a domestic scandal, which he accidentally started, he felt Satine's familiar presence approach and barely managed to delay the Skywalkers going into a row…

"Did I choose a bad moment?" Satine walked in confidently, and would have looked very regal and stunning, if she wasn't in the process of removing pieces of her very colourful, fashionable and utterly ridiculous gown. The Deep Core, its high society and their crazy fashion – that was something that Kenobi knew he would never get used to.

"Don't mind them, they're likely to try kill each other before we're done anyway."

"Obi-Wan!" "Kenobi!" A pair of indignant voices echoed through the living room.

"Is this the reason you've been so busy you didn't come home last night?" Satine asked while struggling to unbraid her hair. It fell around her shoulders in veils and braids tied by silk treads glittering with gems.

"Yes, it was." Obi-Wan admitted and went to help, only to be shouldered away by Padme, who shooed him away with an unimpressed look.

"Veil shenanigans." The Senator explained.

"He does have that effect on people, its just that its usually other people..." Satine trailed off when three pairs of disbelieving eyes turned her way. "Don't look at me, people do consider him my attack dog nowadays. Even the hint that I might sic him on them does wonders."

"I've said it before, I must say it again – we've become tyrants." Padme grumbled, while busying herself with carefully unentangling Satine's hair. "And you enjoy it a bit too much" She accused the Empress.

"Padme, you aren't the one half the politicians in the Core consider their pawn and yes woman. With every passing day it becomes more and more tempting to actually unleash him upon some of those bastards!"

"It's not that bad… yet..." Obi-Wan trailed off, after his words earned him a tired, yet still very potent glare.

"You did gather us here, as soon as we could get away for the evening without raising questions. Spill." Satine ordered imperiously. "My patience is frayed enough already, don't test it, Obi." She added in a softer tone.

"I'm not sure what exactly each one of you knows about Earth Bet. What I do know is that the place is more important that any of us suspected." Obi-Wan summarized about the existence of the so called "Star Wars" movies over there, and why they were relevant. "There are certain highlights we need to watch, deal with and ultimately decide how to handle the implications."

"We aren't going to like what we'll see, are we, Master?" Any and all levity left Anakin's form and he looked like a coiled spring ready to pounce. "Do I dare ask?"

"Sit down and watch." Obi-Wan suggested and pointed at the arm-chairs, which were strategically placed to be on the opposing sides of the caff table. He sat down on the couch, waved for his wife to join him and looked expectantly at the Skywalkers who did get the hint and sat in the arm-chairs.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Temporary Imperial Residence**

**Republica 500**

**Coruscant**

This was an ambush. Anakin was sure of it, he just didn't know the purpose of it. He had no good choice but to sit still like a statue and watch some of his darkest secrets on video. Worse, his Padme watched it as well. As if that wasn't bad enough, there were other things, a recording of a future that wasn't, one that Skywalker wasn't sure he could deny was very much possible. Any attempt to do so would ring hollow – while imprisoned in Geonosis' aftermath, Anakin had a lot of time to think, and the conclusion he'd reached then hadn't changed in the following years – the one thing that mattered most to him was his family. Padme and their daughter, anything less could burn for all he cared if it meant the two of them were safe, and happy – in that order.

What he saw on the screen of that odd computer – he could see himself doing those things if it meant that Padme was safe. Palpatine was his friend – both in life, and later, in death. Even when he learned that the man was a Sith, he found it hard to judge – first, it wasn't like his own hands were clean. Second, well, the Jedi did prove Palpatine's fears – both in the past and that future that, obviously, didn't happen. Anakin could see, and understand, the man's glee in calling Order 66 after the Jedi committed treason, not to mention Windu's assassination attempt. He could even grudgingly understand the man trying to bind Anakin closer to himself.

Siccing him on the Jedi Temple with the 501st – it was a stretch, though still somewhat plausible. Anakin wasn't sure what state of mind he would have found himself under similar circumstances, but it wouldn't have been good. The Jedi left his mother to remain a slave, they let her die when he had visions of her possible death. He knew that the Council would have done nothing to help him keep Padme alive. She was an attachment, something to be discarded. Anger burst within his chest at that thought, and he gave his wife a pained and possessive look.

Padme didn't even spare a glance his way. Her eyes were cold like icicles, and they stared unflinchingly at the small screen. On it, Anakin- no, Vader- marched into the room where the younglings hid, burning lightsaber in hand. That recording, or whatever it was, didn't show the deed. It didn't have to.

Anakin wanted to protest that he would never hurt the younglings! It made no sense, it served no purpose! Yet, he couldn't claim he would never hurt children. He could still remember how sweet, yet bitter vengeance tasted. He drank deeply from that cup back on Tatooine when he slaughtered every single member of that Sand People tribe: men, women, children, even the animals. All he really felt then was vindication and intense satisfaction from inflicting harm upon those who took his mother from him.

He simply watched the recording until it reached Mustafar – he had seen that place in briefings even if he had never gone anywhere close to its surface. Its ash-choked surface and rivers of lava were distinct enough. What followed… A choked cry escaped his lips when he saw a very pregnant Padme walk down the ramp of her personal ship, with Obi-Wan soon to follow. The short exchange between them was a familiar one – they'd had a lot of conversations and arguments in the months leading to the establishment of the Empire. It was a familiar ground. What he did next – there was no kriffing way! All he ever did for years now was because of her, for her! He would never hurt her physically, much less with the Force!

At that moment, Padme's eyes turned upon him, and he felt like drowning. There was shock, betrayal and disbelief written all over her face, and worse, those emotions simply radiated from her.

"To be fair, Anakin hasn't done most of those things, and I don't see him doing it in our future." Obi-Wan spoke for the first time since he started the video recording. In fact, this was the first time anyone had spoken since then.

"I would have remembered if my husband had tried to choke the life out of me in a fit of delusional rage." Padme's voice was drier than the Dune Sea. There was no sign of sarcasm in her voice. "What surprises me most, Obi-Wan, is how calm you are. But then, I suppose you've had some time to get to grips with this." She gave a slight nod to the computer, which now showed a duel between Anakin and Kenobi.

"That is part of it, true." Obi-Wan admitted. "We're all different people now. While I do not doubt that Anakin would do anything, and I mean that literally, to keep you and Leia safe, I don't see him actually harming you… unless he's lost his mind. This time around, there isn't a "friend" he trusts, trying to turn him to the Dark Side. No Sith Lord who would see you as an obstacle. After all, you're Veil's good ally, are you not? I can assure you, he has no need of what you might become if that was to somehow happen again." Obi-Wan inclined his head towards the screen where the duel soon ended, with Anakin cut to pieces and left burning alive.

Seeing his best friend, his brother, leaving him to die in agony on the bank of a lava river, that simply left Skywalker speechless. Just watching it sent phantom pain all over his artificial arm, and he absentmindedly clutched the place where flesh and metal met, acutely sensing the burn of Dooku's saber as if it had happened moments ago.

"You believe that these records show a plausible alternative future – the future that would have been if it wasn't for Veil and the Old Republic Remnant somehow finding their way to the beginning of the Clone Wars." Satine summarized. "You wouldn't have gathered us in such a fashion otherwise, Obi-Wan."

"I find it plausible, yes. What those records show from the time before Veil's arrival... well, events broadly match. Like Anakin's little detour to Tatooine, before he and Padme came to rescue me on Geonosis." Obi-Wan turned his gaze upon Skywalker and sighed. "We've failed you, my boy, haven't we?

Those words served as a lifeline for Skywalker, who grasped them without thinking. Anger, betrayal, and fear all warred within him; pain too, at seeing Padme look at him with such emotions… "What do you think?!" He couldn't help him and his anger bust through. In a blink of an eye he was on his feet and pacing in front of the caf table. "The Republic, the Jedi – you didn't care about all the slavery going on Tatooine and countless other worlds all across the Rim! If it wasn't for me being Force Sensitive, such a powerful one too, you would have left me! I would be dead, still property of the Hutts or worse!" Anakin jabbed an accusing finger at Obi-Wan. "You left my mother behind as a slave! When I asked, begged and pleaded for the Jedi to do something, no one did! She was of no consequence, an attachment I was better without!" Anakin shouted.

"And we did the same when you had those visions of your mother..." Obi-Wan admitted, and this time it was him who earned himself the ire of the two women.

"You know, Obi-Wan, the more I learned about the Jedi Order and how it really operated, the less I was surprised that they lost public support so fast and so easily. You saw the world in a very different light, you had priorities which would be alien to most people across the galaxy, didn't you?" Satine asked. There was no judgement in her voice, merely academic interest.

"They meant well, that much I believe without a shadow of a doubt." Padme spoke next. "I also do not doubt that their priorities were different compared to us, the regular people of the galaxy. We've all learned, the hard way, that good intentions count for very little in the real world. It's actions that matter; actions and their consequences."

"Speaking about actions and consequences..." Satine began, "Anakin, how much influence did the former Chancellor have upon you?"

Skywalker opened his mouth, then closed it with an audible click. "All things considered, more than I'm now comfortable with. He was my friend!" Anakin waved his arms in frustration. "He was the one who understood when all I got from the Jedi were platitudes!"

"And he played you." Padme spoke, with a hint of sorrow finding its way in her otherwise cold voice. "I'm not going to judge you, nor throw you away for something you haven't done and might never do anyway. However, I do need time to process this..." She waved at the computer. "I think I'll take a short vacation to visit my parents back on Naboo. We'll be back for Victory day."

Anakin wanted to protest, but one good look at Padme and her haywire emotions made him reconsider. The way he was wired right then and there, he was sure he would say something he would regret if they got into an argument, and that much was all but guaranteed now. So he simply nodded.

"You're acting more reasonable that I might have in your shoes, Padme." Satine said in a forced light tone. "I will be having a conversation with my husband tonight." The Empress gave Kenobi a pointed look.

Obi-Wan raised hands in acceptance. "I'm sure you will, dear. All I have to say is, that the man you married isn't the one who would have just watched you die if there was anything in his power he could have done."

"I know." Satine's answer came in a quieter, softer voice.

Anakin flinched at that. Seeing that animation of Maul of all people, murdering the Empress… well duchess in that possible future… That, he'd watched with sheer disbelief. Maul, his brother, a handful of guards – Obi-Wan should have been able to crush them, his emotions should have proven ample fuel for the Force if he had ever ended up in such a situation… unless he had been very much the typical Jedi, not letting his emotions get in the way, refusing to use them as a source of power.

Well, it was a good thing that the Obi-Wan they saw in those recordings wasn't the one currently sitting on the couch trying to appease his wife. It was also very good that the Skywalker over there wasn't precisely the same as himself, Anakin thought, even though that man appeared uncomfortably similar to him. Ultimately, they had the same goals, were ready to do everything for Padme, it was just now that he got another painful demonstration how someone could twist his emotions and use them against both him and his family.

On the bright side, Obi-Wan's fears appeared unfounded – Padme hadn't tried to shoot or stab him after he watched his… lets call it, counterpart's, stunts.

"Anakin, we'll be speaking about Tatooine, among other things, soon." Kenobi spoke, his words breaking Anakin's trail of thoughts.

"Do we need to?" Was that a whine he heard in his own voice?

"We do need to clear up the air about certain things." Obi-Wan explained, which really wasn't much of an explanation.

"Do I have to forward up to another prosecution?"

"Even if it pains me to admit it, though not because of your actions, Tatooine in particular, and Hutt Space in general, was and still is out of our jurisdiction. We've had to make that perfectly clear both to the Hutts, and many of our own politicians and military commanders." That decision didn't go down well with certain parties, while others practically celebrated it. "Do you expect me to condemn you?" Obi-Wan asked.

"The thought crossed my mind at least." That came from Satine.

Anakin numbly nodded.

"I certainly should, Anakin. I'm both disturbed and proud of you. What you did, while there is no excuse, it is something I can understand. While I do no remember my parents or other relatives, if Satine died in my arms..." Kenobi shook his head and pulled his wife into a one armed hug, which the Empress returned, "I would have done very much the same. If it was me in that record – none of those people would have walked away in one piece." None of them would have survived the encounter, his tone said. "It still disturbs me, what you did, yet I'm proud that you didn't succumb and fall to the Dark Side then and there. I've known many a Jedi who would have fallen if they had done the same."

"Thank you, I think?"

"We're still going to have that conversation and you're going to tell me all about how Palpatine has been manipulating you."

Anakin winced at that.

* * *

**=MK=**

Padme made her excuses and left, marching towards the nursery holding her daughter and the Crown Princess. Her already tested composure almost completely shattered while she waited to pass the inevitable security checks meant to ensure that she wasn't an imposter hell-bent on harming or kidnapping one of the children. The Senator felt a bit of relief only once security allowed her inside and she saw the small form of her sleeping daughter – Leia had cocooned herself in her blanket and snoring lightly. The only thing clearly visible from her were a few soft brown locks. Padme smiled at the little sleeping form and some of the tension gripping her frame drained away.

"Oh, Anakin, what am I going to do with you!?" She muttered softly. His actions were both endearing and vexing to say at least. While it was nice to know for sure that he would do anything to keep her and their child safe, Padme was no helpless princess who needed constant protection! She was very capable in her own right, thank you very much! On the other hand, as past events had demonstrated, she was far from invincible. She did need to be saved on more than one occasion, which was immensely frustrating and infuriating!

She loathed being helpless ever since the Naboo Crisis all those years ago. If anything, she hated it even more when her personal safety was concerned. To know that Anakin would forever have her back had always been a source of tremendous relief, even if she wouldn't admit it even to herself most of the time. Yet, the things he had done for her safety, the things she now knew for sure he was capable of… Once upon a time, she might have just run away and never looked back. Padme used to be an idealist after all, a woman with a good heart. Nowadays, however… A bittersweet smile appeared on her face while she gazed at her peacefully sleeping daughter. For Naboo, for her people and family, she had betrayed her own ideals, the Republic she saw as the best form of the government for the galaxy, many of her friends, like Mon Mothma… It had been a long time now since she could even pretend that her hands weren't drenched in blood.

Padme aided a monster, facilitated Veil's schemes, she was one of those who engineered the fall of the Republic and made possible the rise of the Empire, she was one of the leading voices who turned the Second Mid-Rim campaign into a bloodbath, all in order to ensure that no one would be in a position to poison, burn or invade her home again. Did she have any right to be furious at Anakin for what he had done after his mother died in his arms? Did she have any right to be infuriated about what he hadn't actually done?

She missed the good old days, when the galaxy made sense, and she hadn't traded her conscience for the security of her family and people.


	23. Chapter 10 Parts 1&2

**AN: This update was betaed by Fwee on the space battles forums. Thank you very much for the time and effort you put in clearing it up!**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Sundari**

**Mandalore**

For the past half an hour, Wreav had been trying to figure out how he got roped into this. He was sure both his Sergeant and the LT had something to do with it, probably someone higher up on the chain of command as well. There was no other way to explain why they were allowed to borrow one of the palace's armoured air-cars and leave with it without anyone coming to ask questions, or more importantly, stop them.

At least someone was happy about this, he decided, and spared a glance at his charge – who was babbling about how odd it was for HK to be ordered to babysit someone. The kid was endearing in how oblivious she currently was – the Assassin droid had been looking after her for more than a year now and had taken her under his wing as a kind of apprentice. Then again, she was a young child, it was a given that they thought they knew better than anyone else, no matter what people told them…

Wreav rumbled quietly to get Sabine's attention and pointed a paw at the most intact building visible in the distance. That was their destination, the hotel holding their targets.

Just to be on the safe side, he subvocalized to command to make damn sure HK knew they were coming. He didn't want any misunderstandings, especially ones that might end up with someone's hide on fire, or worse, disintegrated. Especially if it was_ his _fur that suffered.

They found their targets lounging on a terrace overlooking a nearby plaza where construction crews utilized a lot of heavy equipment to make the place presentable for the approaching celebrations. He personally couldn't see the appeal of watching something like that – unless it was combat engineers setting up fortifications or a proper killing ground, but to each their own, he guessed.

Wreav rumbled in displeasure when his charge tried to go visit her friend the express way…

"Just drive over, I'll jump!" Sabine bounced on her seat, barely able to keep herself in one place.

The Wookie left any pretence of civility aside for a moment and roared loud and clear, making sure Sabine knew that jumping out of a perfectly fine transport, one which wasn't on fire or under fire, was in no way acceptable, thank you very much. In response, the brat pouted at him while rubbing her left ear, but at least she stopped trying to open the bloody door…

What did he do to deserve this anyway?!

* * *

**=MK=**

A loud, angry roar echoed through the canyons of glass and metal that were Sundari streets.

"What the hell was that?!" Danny exclaimed, spilling some of his ale in surprise.

"A Wookie, angry one too." HK-117 explained. "I can make an educated guess about his identity and the reason for his anger." The droid added.

"Are you a thinker now?" Taylor asked, while warily looking around as if waiting for a monster to jump from somewhere.

"No, I just got a head's up from the palace. Someone, in their infinite wisdom, has let my Master's charge run around without adult supervision."

"He has a Wookie?" Taylor asked in disbelief.

"Said walking rug is a member of my Master's security detail." HK extrapolated, carefully keeping his voice civil. "How and why is he here, bringing my Master's adopted child, is anyone's guess. No one aware of it and on the network is talking." HK grumbled. This place was less than secure, and while he was confident he would be able to get his minion out of most possible altercations, the same wasn't true for the other two humans he was supposed to babysit. On the bright side, if something happened, he would get to shoot and blow up people – it had been all too long since his last fun assignment!

"You mean Mandalore's kid is coming here?!" Now it was time for the elder Hebert to sound disbelieving.

"Did I stutter?" HK politely inquired. Bloody meat-bags.

"Um, you didn't..." Taylor trailed off. "Why is she coming here?"

"A very good question, Ms Hebert. I'll be sure to ask her when she arrives." She was supposed to be at the palace after she returned from training, which wasn't supposed to happen for a few more hours yet. What was with meat-bags and disregard for proper schedules!? Some of them even did their best to be late for their own assassinations! It was simply not the done thing!

"I think we'd best get more presentable for such a visit." Mr Hebert concluded and got up.

"That might be for the best," The girl agreed.

"I doubt Sabine would care." HK concluded after scanning their clothes again – there was nothing really wrong with them, though they were all too practical and not colourful enough to pass muster in what some considered "proper" high society. Thankfully, there were very few such meat-bags left on the planet.

The doorbell rang, continuously, announcing that Sabine had been up to some shenanigans in order to reach the door this fast.

"I'll let them in before she manages to irritate everyone in the building." HK declared and headed for the entrance. While he had nothing against pissing off meat-bags and then murdering them all in novel and creative ways, everything had its time and place. Unfortunately, this wasn't it. It was times like these when he really regretted that they were the so-called good guys these days…

HK marched to the door, scanning the area for any unpleasant surprises. There were only two forms on the other side of the door – the short familiar one of Sabine, and the towering figure of the walking rug. He opened the door and glared at his charge, complete with glowing photoreceptors.

"What are you doing here?" HK demanded.

"Hi! It's nice to meet you too, it's been sooooo long!" Sabine bounced on the balls of her feet and rolled her eyes at him. Sarcasm dripped from her words too, a very hefty dose of it.

"Hi. It's not nice to see you here. Why are you in an unsecured location, when you're supposed to be still on your way back or safe and sound at the palace?" HK could play that game too, and spoke in his best dry and sarcastic tone as well.

"There's going to be a sandstorm tonight so they got us back earlier. There was no one interesting back home, I got bored and then figured out you were up to something, so here I am!" Sabine blurted out.

Yep. Bloody meat-bags. He would be having words with security the next time he was at the palace.

"Do get in." HK grumbled and moved from the door. He didn't fail to send a murderous look at the armoured Wookie towering above his charge. They were going to have words as well. "Introductions – those two," The Droid pointed at his current mission objectives, who just now entered the living room, "are the Heberts, Danny and Taylor." These," he waved at Sabine who wasted no time and bounced inside, "Are Sabine Wren, my primary charge, and the walking rug is Corporal Wreav, who wasn't supposed to let her get away from the palace with just him as an escort."

The Wookie rumbled in response, pointing out how close HK currently was and that it would be such a shame if something happened to his arms…

"Don't mind them, they're like that all the time." Sabine dismissed them both and went to stand in front of Taylor, peering up at the taller girl. "Hi, I'm Sabine Wren! What did you do to get uncle Veil interested in you two?"

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

Sundari

Mandalore

Sabine Wren was an odd thing to experience, Taylor decided. The jury was still out on if it was a good or bad experience, though nonetheless it was going to be memorable anyway. The kid bounced all around the room, apparently unable to keep herself from staying in one place for more than a few seconds without exploding into action. Really, it was almost dazzling to watch her.

In all fairness, while the girl asked tons of questions, she turned out to be a priceless source of information as well – things that the Droid, HK, either didn't think about sharing or had been told not to. Taylor felt somewhat bad about using Sabine that way, though it wasn't like she didn't offer answers of her own when asked, even if she really didn't want to touch certain topics, like how she ended up in her current position…

It almost immediately became clear that Mandalore was radically different from Earth Bet in lot of aspects, yet oddly similar in others despite being literally an alien world. Take Sabine for example – she wanted to be a hero, just like Taylor did… it was just that around here being a hero apparently meant something very different, like the kid gleefully explained.

Sabine wanted to be a Mandalorian Warrior, complete with capital letters. She had just returned from ranger training in the desert as well, which simply boggled the mind.

"I'm wondering if what you mean by ranger training has anything to do with the ranger training I'm vaguely familiar with from my time in the navy." Dad added his two cents as well.

That was a mistake – Sabine perked up and spent the next half an hour excitedly blurting out how great and fun the torture disguised as training had been… Listening about survival in the desert, the best ways to lay down an ambush in the sand, or find water and shelter… Was this what people called culture clash, Taylor wondered?

Dad didn't help when his only comment was that 'It sounded about right...'. What exactly did he do in the navy anyway? She hadn't been particularly curious about that in the past…

It soon became clear that speaking with Sabine was like waddling through a minefield – hopefully that wasn't universal when talking with Mandalorians. It was really an innocent and logical question as well that make that point.

"Why did you want to do that anyway?" Taylor asked without thinking.

"Ranger training?" Sabine asked and received a nod in confirmation. "If I had been to it, it would have made the march out of Sundari much easier…" The kid muttered and all the boundless energy simply drained out of her and she collapsed in the nearest chair. "I had to walk out alone with one of the last evacuation waves, while the clankers pressed in trying to kill everything that moved." Sabine said with an empty eyes staring at something far away.

"What? Where were your parents?" Taylor blurted out, without even thinking, and struck mine number two.

Sabine blinked twice and looked away. "Dad was with the navy during the Death Watch's treason. His ship went down with all hands. Mother… She was Death Watch and vanished during the fighting for the capital."

Well, that explained a lot, though it raised tons of other questions… Dad raised both eyebrows at that answer, then glanced at HK. The Droid noticed and did provide some context.

"My Lady, Bo-Katan, was a former Death Watch member as well. She changed sides before said organization committed their treason, in fact, they did attempt to murder her as well as her sister and my Master as a part of the preparations for their attempt to seize power. Obviously, they were unsuccessful."

The Wookie roared in what Taylor assumed was a confirmation.

"Yep, that's aunt Bo!" Sabine perked up at hearing the name. "She's awesome! She taught me so much..." Sabine trailed off and the spark of excitement and happiness died in her eyes.

"You just wish it was your mother who did it, or the two of them together." That came from Dad.

"Yep." The kid sniffed.

The conversation had a decidedly awkward tone from that point on. On the plus side, at least Taylor understood why Sabine wanted to become a Mandalorian Warrior when she grew up – it wasn't just because it was a part of her culture, which was a big reason for it, obviously. It was how said warriors were perceived – they were the local heroes and protectors, the people who fought against impossible odds during the war, the same ones who followed Mandalore on battlefields all across the galaxy to ensure the enemy wouldn't triumph, and as crazy as it sounded, arrived like the proverbial cavalry by jumping from orbit during the end days of the Siege when the planet was about to fall.

On the other hand, while there were some similarities, what Sabine and most of the locals saw as heroes, were a far cry from the ideal Taylor believed in. Heroes were supposed to save people and stop villains, to bring the latter in to be imprisoned. Thinking about it, they were icons, ideals people were trying to live up to.

In contrast, what Sabine strived to be was a soldier, that was it – she wanted to keep her home safe, protect her family and destroy any and all threats to it. Taylor wasn't sure if the kid understood what that really meant, yet after the way she spoke about the war and walking out of this city… she probably had a better idea than most.


	24. Chapter 10 Parts 3&4

**AN: This update was betaed by Fwee and moonberserker on the space battles forums. Thank you very much for the time and effort you put in clearing it up!**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**7 January 2011**

**Lisa's flat**

**Brockton Bay**

Really, Tattletale should have known better. She had a new stable job, well paid, even better compensated, with actual decent retirement package, instead of, you know, ending up chained and drugged in a Bond villain's dungeon. Lisa even got access to some neat advanced medicines, which did take the edge off her headaches, which was a very good thing considering how much her power has been working overtime lately.

She really should have known that the good times wouldn't last without a Coil-shaped snag. There she was – lounging in her bed, researching for her employers and trolling people on PHO, with snacks, drinks and painkillers in easy reach. Lisa should have known better, really. It shouldn't have taken her that long to process the words that suddenly came from her Mandalorian supplied communicator.

"Lisa, you're about to have company. Three transports chock full of mercenaries just entered your grid. We've got them locked in by a surveillance Droid and the QRF is spinning up. You'd better run, we'll provide overwatch."

For long, long moments, Lisa simply stared at the comm unit. Deep down, she'd always sorta believed that even Coil, no matter the exact details about his power, would dare try and grab her, when a whole damned interstellar nation had her back! One run by Sith who didn't share their toys and subordinates!

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" Lisa cursed and hurriedly dug herself out of the blanket cocoon she had been snugly comfortable in. Snacks flew every which way, she nearly dumped her laptop on the ground in her haste to grab her gun on her way out.

Tattletale then suddenly reversed to grab the comm unit once her power reminded her she left it behind, then whirled around, did pick up the gun – a nice hold-out blaster, which should be able to put down most things she was liable to run into while in Brockton Bay, and headed for the exit.

"What am I looking at?!" Lisa wheezed at the comm.

"Transports are separating, one is heading for the back of your building. I advise you try to slip out that way, less hostiles to evade in that direction. We can have boots on the ground in three minutes, try to remain in one piece."

"I love you too." Lisa snarked. She grabbed her jacket, stumbled trying to put her boots on while moving towards the door and cursing herself for a fool.

"Lisa, be advised, we'll distract the hostiles at the back for you. Just keep moving." That was Aria's voice, the Chiss sounded less than pleased too. That meant Coil's long term prospects didn't look so hot now, though that might very well be a cold comfort for Lisa.

She heard the telltale whine of repulsors followed by a loud crash and an explosion shook the building, rattling Tattletale. She heard windows shattering and people screaming at the sudden onslaught. Oversight had used a Scout Droid as a kamikaze, which had activated its self-destruct upon impact. The back should be clear for about a minute or so, until the rest of Coil's men could get there, Lisa's power promptly supplied. Little to no regard for collateral damage, extracting Mandalorian aligned assets takes priority, that one was more of a guess than a certainty. Running now might be a good idea as well.

Lisa barely paid any attention to her power's conclusions and suggestions, and instead concentrated on making herself scarce.

"We've got a second Droid ready to go, with two more on station within the minute." Oversight's voice echoed in Lisa's ears. "Be advised, five hostiles just disembarked and entered the building from the front, the second transport is accelerating, presumably to circle around..."

Lisa's legs pumped faster, she had to get to the back before either group of mercenaries could lay their eyes on her…

Another loud whine, a burst of automatic fire, a scream and a second earth-shaking boom, this time coming from the front of the building. The shockwave was enough to make Lisa stumble and only a desperately flailing hand that grabbed the railing prevented her from tumbling down the stairs while dust rained all over her.

"Transport neutralized. We won't have eyes on you for fifty four seconds, keep safe." Oversight added.

A minute? She could keep herself safe for a minute, right? With that thought, Lisa dashed down the stairs.

* * *

**=MK=**

**7 January 2011**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

Director Piggot put the phone down and settled as comfortably as she could in her chair. It was done, she had bitten the bullet and soon she would be having an appointment with Panacea, which was something that couldn't happen soon enough.

She needed a drink, God damn it, preferably before her goddamn job drove her crazier than the average Parahuman!

Emily looked at the printed reports on her desk, a security precaution that might have as well been useless, with her organization obviously infiltrated to hell and back!. Since yesterday, informants within the various gangs reported rumours that the villains and their normal henchmen were preparing for war, perhaps even a pre-emptive strike, because they apparently knew what Washington planned to do. A potential disaster in her city was all but certain – complete with rage dragons rampaging, swords raining upon everyone's heads, serial suicide bombers and now likely orbital strikes to polish out anything that survived the insanity about to unfold.

As if all that wasn't enough, there were other mercenaries running wild, threatening to push the city over the edge already. By all accounts, it was Coil's mercenaries who went after the Undersiders for some unfathomable reason, with the Mandalorians moving in to protect their assets.

Yes, a big stiff drink sounded like precisely what the doctor prescribed right now.

A hurried knock, followed by the door to her office opening to admit a harried Renick, interrupted her ruminations.

"We just got two messages from the Mandalorians." The Deputy Director wheezed. "The first is the official invitation for our government to send representatives for the celebrations of Empire and Victory Day on Mandalore and later Coruscant – with transport, lodging and security provided by the Empire."

That had been more or less expected after the first round of negotiations, and certainly no reason for Renick to look and act that way.

"Go on, hit me with the bad news." Emily sighed.

"The second is a demand that we put our house in order or they will do it for us." He waved a data-pad, one of the large and rugged ones favoured by the Mandalorians. "Apparently, Ms Veil had her fill of people attacking Mandalorian assets and affiliate interests."

"The Undersiders." Piggot growled. "What on Earth made Coil go after them, I'll never know..."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Timeline A**

**Fortress Construction CEO Office**

In his safe timeline, Thomas Calvert went over the accumulated paperwork, resenting the sheer waste of time and effort dealing with it represented. At the same time, he knew his alter-ego sat in a much more comfortable chair deep within his lair, waiting for the mercenaries to reach Tattletale's neighbourhood. It was high time to further test the mettle of the Mandalorians and figure out if they could prove worthy employers- something that he could manage thanks to his power- or simply an S-Class threat equivalent to avoid at all costs. As a bonus, if his scheme actually worked out, he might get to vent at Tattletale, even if it happened in a throw-away timeline. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the little traitor… At worst, he was going to gain some valuable information that he could sell.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Timeline B**

**Coil's base**

Often, Coil found himself glad that he had ended up with his power, it made it so that he could simply sidestep costly or even fatal mistakes, on a daily basis at that. With a power like his, the sky was the limit. Like today – he knew that his Tattletale had some kind of protection, however he didn't really expect that his mercenaries would face lethal response even before they could deploy. If he ever needed another lesson about the Mandalorians playing by a very different play-book compared to everyone else, this was it – the moment his people approached the building, he lost contact with one of the teams, with the other two reporting an explosion… Soon a second one died a fiery death as they were moving in to cover the back of the building. At that point, Coil was tempted to discard the timeline, but thought better of it. He still had a squad of mercenaries in the field and figuring out how they died was going to give him information as well. The only snag was that he would have to discard this timeline and end up actually doing the paperwork at his legal work, which was such a bother…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

**7 January 2011 **

**Coil's base**

**Brockton Bay**

Perhaps Calvert should have seen it coming, even though he had not only kept but reinforced his security precautions ever since his Tattletale betrayed him. One moment he was experiencing the familiar and reassuring sensation of existing in two timelines, in the next, one of them came to an abrupt end. He had only a brief warning, one he was unable to properly process before it was all over – a distinct whine descended upon his office at the Fortress Construction HQ, there was a sensation of heat and pressure, then his safe timeline collapsed. That left Coil stumped for a moment. He had been assassinated before, true, so it wasn't exactly an unfamiliar sensation. However, it seldom happened out of the blue like that, and almost never in his safe timeline!

Meanwhile, his surviving strike team was busy chasing Tattletale. "Target in sight!" The team leader shouted. Subdued barks from silenced weapons came over the speakers of Coil's computer, and the distinctive discharge of a blaster answered.

"Do retrieve her weapon as well." Coil ordered with a deceptive calmness. He promptly split the timeline and sent his counterpart running for the closest emergency exit, while in both realities he was experiencing, he put the base on a high alert.

"Target suppressed. Flash and move to neutralize." The team leader's voice echoed in the otherwise quiet office, steady gunfire and the odd blaster shot cracking in the background. The familiar sound of a flash-bang came over the speakers followed by the sound of rushing feet and shouts.

"Incoming!" A loud whine, automatic fire, the distinct crack of laser attacks boring through the air, heavy blaster fire and then silence.

Coil grimaced. At least now he had the Mandalorian's response time pegged down, more or less, for all that it was worth. Losing a second group of mercenaries in as many weeks was a big blemish on his otherwise perfect record, one that was going to unsettle the people he had guarding his base. Until now, a large reason for their loyalty, besides hefty payments obviously, was his uncanny ability to lead them from success to success, usually with little to no casualties suffered. That ensured their loyalty – he was a well paying employer, who didn't pointlessly waste their lives, the fools actually believed that he gave a damn about them as well, a faith that would be shaken by recent events.

As if to reinforce the point, his second timeline terminated abruptly, and again the only warning he got was that maddening whining sound. Coil closed his eyes and grimaced. This wasn't good. He hurried to activate the base's self-destruct just in case and split reality again.

"All units, our location has been compromised." He began. "Prepare to defend the base until further instructions." Coil ordered in his first timeline. "We're leaving, gather at emergency exit four." He said in the second, retrieved his sidearm and ran to meet his mercenaries. It was high time to make himself scarce and leave Brockton Bay behind. He could worry about dealing with his Tattletale later.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Mandalorian FOB  
Docks  
Brockton Bay  
**  
The last few days had Aria on edge. She itched for action, especially an opportunity to demonstrate to the local criminal syndicates just how much out of their depth they were. The sheer gall the so called Empire 88 demonstrated for example, simply grated and offended her sensibilities. To think that those fools believed that they could be a worthy partner to either the Freehold or the Federated Empire, the Chiss shook her head in exasperation. Oh, she knew why her Master required she stayed her hand for the time being – the local criminal element could prove useful in the short term, providing information, contacts, tinker-tech and people the local governments weren't ready to trade. That said, while she saw the point, Aria wasn't expected to like it and she couldn't wait to be unleashed.

At least it wasn't all bad. The ABB hadn't sent envoys, which was a good thing, considering that they were on the top of the list with obstacles to be removed. The trick was doing so without levelling most of the city, which required gathering of enough data on the enemy capabilities. As long as he lacked heavy munitions, the ABB suicide bomber should be something Aria could handle with acceptable collateral, as long as she was present. Lung, he was potentially more problematic – putting him down would likely require her undivided attention or enough firepower to raze a large chunk of Brockton Bay, which was less than ideal, especially if she had to decide between engaging him or dealing with Oni-Lee to prevent him from suicide-bombing her troops. Ideally, she would have liked to execute a pre-emptive strike, taking out the mad bomber before he knew that the ABB's time was over.

Aria was busy refining her plans for eliminating the ABB once and for all, when trouble came from an unanticipated source. For all of Lisa's concerns, the Sith hadn't really expected that Tattletale's former employer would have had the sheer gall to try going after her or the other Undersiders for that matter now that it was known they were under Mandalorian protection. Then again, what else could you expect from people who had been allowed to believe themselves petty kings?

The Chiss marched into the operations centre and looked over the various data streams. It seemed it was high time she made an example or ten.

"Use the Droids on station to neutralize two of the transports – first the one going to the back of the building, second, the one which might head that way after the enemy loses coverage in that area." Aria suggested.

"Ma'am?" The young communications specialist raised her head to glance her way.

"Ram two of their transports with a recon Droid apiece and have the clanker self-destruct on impact, that should be enough to neutralize them." Aria explained. "Do we have eyes on Calvert?" She asked aloud so the reconnaissance specialists at the far end of the warehouse could hear her.

"He should be in his base."

"Make our displeasure plain to see – I want his house, office and usual haunts wrecked yesterday, get a platoon armoured up, we're going to go visit his lair as well. If he tries to escape, ram him with a Droid. Tag his known associates, we might pick up a few of them, if Lisa deems them worthy of our attention. I want EW droids ready to deploy at his base, we'll test the upgrades and see if they are sufficient to slice into local hardware. Make sure Lisa make is out in one piece." Aria added and went to pick up her own gear. It was time to smoke a snake out of its hole and make an example out of it. Perhaps another gift for Zash was in order? Either that or something the locals would appreciate?


	25. Chapter 10 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**7 January 2011**

**Near Lisa's flat**

**Brockton Bay**

Less than a minute, just fifty odd seconds, they could feel like an eternity, Lisa found out that truth the hard way. She also figured out another truth at the same time – brick walls weren't much of an obstacle for a squad of pissed off and determined mercenaries with access to tinker-tech lasers. Spears of bright light tore their way through the back of her building, slicing through brick and mortar with ease. A loud crash followed when a mercenary rammed the cut off section of the wall and stumbled into the street amidst a shower of dust and debris. Four more men followed him through, shouting at Tattletale to freeze. Instead of complying, Lisa dashed behind the nearest cover – a small delivery van, which would prove no obstacle for the lasers, her power promptly informed her.

"Tell me something I don't know!" Lisa snapped and fired twice over the hood of the van without bothering to aim, which was a good idea, because the mercenaries weren't playing nice either. They responded with a storm of lead, which promptly shredded the van, smashing its cracked windows all over her.

"Damn it, it can't all end this way!" Lisa shouted and dared to return fire, blindly. The incoming bullet-storm intensified, forcing her to curl near the engine – the only piece of the vehicle that could provide some real cover. Bullets pinged all around, she could hear the troopers approaching, and all she could do was clutch her blaster and hope for help.

Two things happened simultaneously – a cylinder bounced over the roof of the van to land nearby, and a bullet glanced from the engine compartment and hit Lisa under the jaw, leaving a deep, yet shallow gash along the bone. She screamed in pain, then the world ended in light and thunder overloading her senses and sending her already straining power into an overload as it tried to catalogue and explain everything that was happening.

There was more sound and dazzling lights, before a tall, figure clad in black appeared towering above Lisa. All she could see was the man's tactical rig, gas mask and the big gun aimed straight between her eyes. She blinked trying to process that, then the mercenary turned into a bloody pancake after a much larger, not to mention heavily armoured figure landed on top of him, squashing him like a roadkill. The Mandalorian looked around, then turned to face her and shook his helmet at her. He removed a hand from a gun, which looked larger than Lisa and retrieved some kind of package, which he promptly pressed at the side of her jaw, making it numb.

The Mandalorians had the best drugs, that much Lisa knew very well already, though a fresh demonstration didn't hurt. Less than a minute after their arrival, the team sent to extract her was back on board their transport and speeding towards the Mandalorian's base at the docks. Lisa herself was securely strapped into a seat with a combat medic fussing over her, though that wasn't really needed any more or so her power told her. The drugs had taken care of the shock already, and the Bacta patch was going to deal with the glancing hit, if she was lucky, there might not even be a scar to speak of… on the other hand, Mandalorians tended to dig scars… Lisa's brain came to a screeching halt at that thought. What the hell, power?, she screamed in her head.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Coil's base**

**Brockton Bay**

Third time was the charm, Coil groaned and massaged his temples. It took him that many deaths in throw-away timelines to figure out exactly how he died when trying to leave his base, as well as what happened to his office and most of the mercenaries he sent after Tattletale. Now he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his operation, and identity had been compromised for some time, that much was obvious really! It explained how the Mandalorians knew to assassinate him in his civilian identity, though it told him nothing about the reason. Was it simply bad timing? Were they about to move against him today anyway because of Tattletale, the little bitch? While academic, that theory was quite plausible. Once he got away and somewhere safe, he really needed to deal with the little pest before she could ruin something else, but first things first – he had to get away, Goddammit it all!

Coil came closest a successful escape while he tried to fight his way out surrounded by all available mercenaries in the base. The previous attempt ended with a droid screaming from the skies and detonating nearby, despite five troopers pumping as much firepower in it as they could. The infernal robot came perilously close anyway and when it detonated, sent sharp shards of fiery metal into Coil's face and side, leaving him writhing in pain on the ground. He terminated that timeline when power-armoured Mandalorians descended upon his mercenaries, who to their credit did their best to extract him.

The last attempt he made got a tiny bit further, only for his group to be incinerated from the air by a gunship with no regard for collateral damage.

So this was how it felt facing off against people as ruthless as he was, no regard for collateral damage and enough assets to bury him alive in soldiers and material. Coil really didn't like the repeated experience. Perhaps talking his way out was still in the cards? In fact, that was one of the reasons why he kept one timeline where he bunkered down in his base, while he used the second one in more and more frantic attempts to escape.

Needless to say, things weren't going particularly good in his first timeline. He had deployed more than two thirds of his mercenaries on the direct route between the main entrance and his office, which as it turned out, was the preferred insertion method for the Mandalorians. They either didn't have enough personnel at hand to assault through multiple vectors, or believed there was no point, after all their damned drones kept a close eye at what, as far as Coil could determine, were all his emergency exits. Or at least the general area and had good enough sensors to find him in real time every time he tried to escape. The practical effect was the same so it didn't really matter, did it?

It soon became clear why the Mandalorians chose to assault through a single vector – that way their grab-bag cape, the Sith, could act as a force multiplier. The massive armoured door, which was rated to stop high level blasters and brutes, lasted mere seconds, before the Chiss woman tore it off the wall, complete with the massive metal levers reinforcing it. The concrete walls bulged inside and exploded in a shower of dust and debris, the door twisted as if a giant hand took it and squeezed, before whatever held it, shoved it inside the well prepared kill-zone waiting for any and all uninvited guests. Explosives and automated weapons expended themselves futilely against the ruined slab of metal, then rockets and grenades came from the pitch-black darkness outside – the various sensors keeping eye on the entrance had died moments before the Mandalorians arrived.

Concussion, plasma, smoke and even cryogenic explosives turned the tunnel leading into the base into hell, sweeping away a lot of the defences. A moment later a blurry form dashed in, leaving a shock-wave in its wake, which shredded everything that survived the initial onslaught. A camera that survived a few moments longer than the rest showed armoured figures flying through the tunnel, not even touching its ravaged surface and simply bypassing any surviving traps.

His mercenaries met the Sith with a rain of solid lead, armour-piercing rounds, lasers, heavy machine guns and RPGs tinkered to deal with brutes. The Sith's charge paused in mid-air in the centre of the second killing zone. Everything thrown her way simply froze a few meters away from her floating form, then she blinked out of existence and an invisible shock-wave smeared the carefully laid ambush long before the first Mandalorian trooper entered the chamber.

Just like that, most of his mercenaries died with nothing to show for. Coil cursed colourfully and typed a particular self-destruct code. Collapsing the front half of his base on top of the bastards should buy him some time after all. He braced himself for the expected shock-wave and slammed a finger on the enter button of his keyboard.

Coil glared at his computer and slammed the button again, then a third time, before swearing viciously. The only answer he got was a dismissive beep echoing through the small vents, then he heard metalik scuttering sound, which was coming closer and closer by the second.

He really should have cut his losses and ran, Coil decided and left his office in such a hurry as if the Slaughterhouse Nine were chasing him. More and more beeps and clicks came from the vents all around him, mercenaries called demanding orders, gunfire echoed from the front of the base only for it to cut abruptly, sometimes accompanied by short-lived agonized screams…

Another escape attempt while using all available mercenaries as a cover failed, this time thanks to a swarm of small robots falling from the sky, cutting through the armoured vehicles he had ready for a fast getaway as if they were made of butter, and then falling upon him and his men, butchering them without care. In fact, those things sounded just like whatever skittered through the vents, a realization that made him redouble his efforts to get away. At least now he knew how those things made their way through the various obstacles inside – they simply cut down everything in their way, though the question remained, how did they spoof the various sensors meant to warn him of something like that happening?!

Coil dismissed that thought – it was something to worry about when he was away and planning his next base.

If he got away, a small treacherous voice whispered at the back of his head.

No! It couldn't all end this way! He never lost, his power made sure of it! He turned around the corner and bounced off a wall that had no job standing in the middle of the corridor. Said wall hissed at displeasure and lashed at him with a clawed fist. The last thing Coil saw, besides a lot of stars was an ugly as sin reptilian face leering at him, then there was only pain and darkness.

Coil stumbled at what happened during his second timeline and promptly took a right turn a few intersections before running into that alien. Obviously he had been wrong, there were additional assaults coming either from his secret exits or making their own entrances. He promptly split reality again, heading in two different directions. Left turned out to be a bad, bad idea – a swarm of cutting, beeping death cut its way through the ceiling and fell upon him, butchering him within moments. So he went right, split the timeline and in one backtracked, while in the other continued to sprint towards the secondary vehicle pool.

Going back didn't pan out – he got a glimpse of large armoured figures, a flash of bluish light and that was that. Coil swore at his options being narrowed down, split time again, this time going on the left and right side of the corridor, readying his sidearm and hoping that the anti-brute bullets he had in the clip might be enough. He heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind and in one timeline turned to fight, while in the other ran for all he was worth.

It was that same ugly reptile running him down. Coil wasted no time and emptied the magazine at the beast, though most bullets splashed off a shield. Only the last two hit – one hit it in the shoulder, sparkling off the armour and barely staggering him, with the other tearing a large chunk of its cheek to reveal a row of very large, very sharp teeth. The beast roared in fury and Coil's world ended in a flurry of wickedly sharp talons before he had the chance to reload, much less put up a fight.

That made the villain run even faster, though after steadying himself for a few seconds, he split timelines again, turned around and opened fire, however this time he was careful to keep the last two bullets for a head-shot. He was barely able to overload the shield when what felt like a ton of armour and angry lizard crashed into him, crushing his chest and leaving him in a broken heap.

Third time's the charm? Coil split again, in one timeline running out in the small vehicle pool, while in the other he turned to face his pursuer for the third time. He got out three shots before a huge fist shattered his jaw, perhaps broke his neck as well, he didn't keep that timeline for long enough to figure it out.

Another split, which went even worse – he simply wasn't equipped to deal with something like that without more range and heavier weaponry! No! This couldn't be happening, he was so close! Coil screamed in his head, made another attempt to overcome the monster, then threw his weapon away, raised his hands and screamed: "I surrender!"

"No you don't!" The lizard hissed angrily at him. "I just began chasing you!" The words came in flat, correct English. "Run, fight, something!"

Coil did so in his second timeline – only to be eviscerated for his troubles. He tried it again and again, only to figure out the hard way that the alien was simply too strong, fast and well trained, not to mention that his armour made him all but invulnerable to everything the villain had at hand. With an outright escape out, he was left with the option of talking his way out of this mess, or an attempt to get away when there were no such monsters breathing down his neck.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**7 January 2011**

**Coil's base**

**Brockton Bay**

Swarms of saboteur droids crawled, skittered and flew through the large underground facility tearing into everything that even vaguely looked like an explosive device or a computer, seeking to disable the former and tear out the data-cores of the latter before they could be wiped out. The few unfortunate mercenaries who found themselves in their way met gruesome end under pincers and cutters meant to disable modern vehicles. Coil had almost a full platoon of troopers on site when the Mandalorians struck and only six of them lived long enough to try and surrender. Those lucky few received stun-bolts to the face and their captors dragged the insensate bodies to an empty corner of the base where they could be more easily guarded.

"This was underwhelming." Aria muttered to herself while overseeing her people tear up anything and everything that might be of use from the base.

"The armoury is a bit of a find, Ma'am." The sergeant sent to secure it, reported. "We've got three crates of the laser attachment, various small arms and explosives to study as well as enough ammo to fight a short battle. If our translators are working right, some of the ordnance is marked as anti-brute and tinker-tech, so that should be of further interest."

"Mark it all for retrieval, the people back home would love to get their hands on those toys. Well done, we just earned ourselves a bonus." Aria congratulated. "Slicer One, any progress on the computer systems?"

"Low to moderate on the few systems the cutters didn't disassemble. We'll be examining the recovered data-cores back at the base." The slicer droid in charge of data retrieval responded. "I can confirm that a self-destruct sequence has been initiated, though has not executed. A second, limited one meant to bring down the front part of the base was entered as well, the cutters prevented them from executing. I've got access a moderate amount of encrypted data, currently no ETA on decryption. I'll need to examine the encryption protocols in detail first."

"I see. Carry on." Well then, Lisa had been right, requesting and deploying swarms of saboteurs had been the right call after all. The girl deserved a bonus as well – as Aria's Master continuously stressed, it always paid to reward good work, even when it was expected as a matter of course. While Aria herself had trouble seeing the logic – why the kriff people needed additional rewards for doing their bloody jobs in the first place, she could hardly argue with results… "Do we have Coil in custody?"

"I have him." A grumpy hissing voice came from her comm. Soon Aria could hear heavy footsteps approaching accompanied by meaty thuds, groans and subdued shouts of pain.

Grakxs' towering frame appeared from a side corridor dragging a thin, almost emaciated figure stuck in a body-fitting costume with a snake motif. "He didn't put any fight! I'll get couple of points at best for this sack of flesh!" The Trandoshan grumbled. "This place was supposed to have worthy prey that would make me the envy of the whole Trandosha!"

Aria had to bite the inside of her cheek not to grin. A pouting and sagging Trandoshan who was over two meters tall was a hilarious sight to behold.

"We have a dragon able to go toe to toe with a planetary siege engine equivalent and a serial suicide bomber on our to deal with list. Either of them would earn you tons of points, then there are other undesirables who simply need to die crawling all over this world." Aria said in her best soothing voice. "This is Coil I presume?"

"The perimeter drones hadn't caught anyone else matching the target's description try to get away. Just a few mercenaries they rammed." Grakxs shrugged. "We'll have to scan their remains and compare them to this one as well as biological material from the target." The Trandoshan sniffed at the man he had been dragging through the base by the foot. "He smells right anyway."

"That's good enough for me." Aria chuckled and turned her attention to the battered figure moaning on the ground. "Coil, I presume? You've been a bad, bad boy..." She took him within a telekinetic grip and pulled him up until the villain was face to face with her. "Thomas Calvert, also known as Coil?" She demanded, while pushing at his mind with the Force.

"This is a mistake!" He groaned. "I've been set up!"

Aria had to give him points for the performance. If it wasn't for the Force, she wouldn't have been able to tell if he was telling the truth or lying out of his ass.

"I don't appreciate being lied to." A bit of pressure and his right knee snapped like a twig making him scream his lungs out. "Lets try again. Are you Thomas Calvert, also known as Coil?"

"I'm Calvert, but I'm not Coil! I'm not a villain!" He begged. "I got kidnapped and set up!"

Aria rolled her eyes and this time shattered every bone from the toes to the knee on his other leg. She had to constrict his neck as well to stop the screaming.

"You won't like it if I have to ask you again." She peered at the captive.

"I'm Coil..." The crippled man babbled the moment Aria released her telekinetic grip of his throat.

"That's better. Was it so hard to tell the truth?" She smirked. "Now about those encrypted files you have on your system and the various contingencies you have in cause of capture?" He was trying to figure out how to lie to her again, the bastard. That simply wouldn't do. Aria snapped him with a bit of Sith lighting, making his body shake within her grip, every movement sending stabs of agony through his shattered bones.

* * *

**=MK=**

An hour later, Coil was sedated and bundled on his way to the FOB for further interrogation once he was out of shock and stabilized. The quick and dirty questioning did reveal some valuable morsels of information – he did have some rather nasty contingencies, which would have rendered the down-town part of the city uninhabitable for years. Those were primary barrels with chemical and biological weapons, some of them tinker-tech sourced. Aria had to call for specialists to get samples of those for study and properly dispose of them.

Another contingency, confirmed by the Slicers, was that Coil had the identities of most Empire 88 capes, complete with triggers to release them to the public blaming different organizations for it - from the PRT to the ABB, depending on which plan went into effect. That data did garner her attention, it would be a powerful bargaining chip, not to mention it saved the Knight's Intel section some work.

Then there were the troves of blackmail material, money, which offered some untraceable liquid capital to play with, as well as contacts, which were going to be useful, especially those who had provided Coil with tinker-tech equipment. Once they had exhausted their usefulness or proved unreliable, Aria could always hand them to the PRT as a gesture of good-will.

When all was said and done, this was a good day's work. Now she had to deal with the local authorities grumbling about all the collateral damage caused by targeting Calvert's home, office and various favourite spots, which was going to be a bother...


	26. Chapter 11 Parts 1&2

**AN: This update is not betaed yet.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****1**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**8 January 2011**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

In Brockton Bay there were days that made Director Piggot sorely wish for a drink, on a few particularly bad occasions, ten. Then there were days like this one, when Emily was genuinely tempted to track down everyone who recommended her for her post and shoot them repeatedly with anti-brute ordnance.

"What do we have so far?" It was the high amount of practice that allowed her to keep her tone somewhat civil, she was sure of it.

"We have confirmed six locations struck. Tomas Calvert's house, his office at Fortes Construction, a flat owned by said company, a pair of its warehouses, one conference room…" Armsmaster droned on, while Miss Militia and Dauntless listened.

"Is Calvert the one common factor?" Rennick looked up from his tabled and asked.

"He is the primary variable we've managed to find so far." Dragon's image answered from a flat screen hanging from the ceiling. "However, it's most curious that the Mandalorians mobilized and attacked after Coil's mercenaries attempted to grab a civilian girl..."

"Who we now believe might be Tattletale from the Undersiders, and thus contracted to work for them." Armsmaster grumbled. "The Mandalorian representative will arrive shortly, Director. What are our orders?"

"To ask politely for an explanation, relay it up the chain of command." And pray the city doesn't become a literal warzone, Emily didn't add.

Director Piggot knew that there were assets mobilizing to try and contain the Mandalorians if it came to it, it was even likely they could overwhelm the alien contingent on the ground with the right Capes and enough numbers. The big problem was that doing so wouldn't really matter in the long run. The Director had to fight not to glance at the ceiling and the warship hanging innocently up in orbit.

"Are we going to let them get away with something like this?" Miss Militia exclaimed. "I know our situation isn't stellar, however..."

"However, this isn't exactly without precedent, here in the Bay." That conclusion came from Dauntless. "The ABB, Lung, our very own Nazi infestation..." He sighed and looked at the Director. "This isn't much different in spirit, is it?"

"Too much trouble to deal with available resources, especially if we fail in neutralizing them?" Emily smiled without showing any joy. "Too big of a risk?" She chuckled mirthlessly. "In the coming days and weeks we're about to receive all the support we've been asking for years now, and it might not matter at all. More than anything, we can't afford to act rashly on this one. Best case scenario, we might be able to take them in with reasonable casualties and collateral damage. Worst case, well..." Alien warships raining death from orbit with the only realistic counters being the Simurgh, if it took offense at someone breaking its toys, and Scion, who might be too busy saving a kitten from a tree or something to bother responding promptly to someone burning cities from orbit.

Hopefully all that would remain only a worst case scenario and one of her nightmares, Emily prayed to a God she no longer believed in.

* * *

**=MK=**

Aria arrived flanked by a pair of towering power armoured troopers, while she wore only a simple dark green uniform with a rank badge above the heart. The first thing that struck Emily was how mundane the uniform was – there was nothing elaborate in the design, in fact whoever made it might have gone out of their way to keep it simple and functional. The second thing that Piggot noted was the obvious fact that Aria arrived unarmoured this time around. Was it arrogance or a simple message that she wasn't here to cause trouble?

"Good morning!" The alien woman waved cheerfully. "I come bringing gifts and explanations!"

The Chiss looked too chipper and happy considering what they were gathered to discuss, which immediately rubbed Emily wrong. She had to clamp on her feelings, grit her teeth and force herself to remain civil.

"That is quite right, Commander Astra. Your people conducted unprovoked strikes throughout my city. Please explain yourself." Director Piggot said. That was an explanation that should be given from the inside of an interrogation room, but then again, the same was true for many other people in this cursed city. Hell, some of them even had places in the Birdcage waiting for them, yet they were free to cause more trouble, and that depressingly enough might be something the Mandalorians would use. At least that was one fear Emily and the Thinker Think tank shared.

"First things first," The Chiss smiled and sat at the far end of the conference table. "We can all blame one of your errant children for yesterday's entertainment. One Thomas Calvert who spent his spare time cosplaying as Coil."

If Astra was human, Piggot was sure she would be beaming at her and her eyes would be sparkling in amusement.

"Calvert?" The Director asked flatly.

"Calvert. Thin slimy bastard, had a thing for form fitting suits with a snake motif, had the bright idea to send a grab squad after one of our employees. He was a really, bad boy." Aria confirmed. "He had his fingers everywhere in this city, from legal businesses, to blackmail, bribes, drug running, weapon smuggling, kidnapping, torture… its a long list and our Intelligence specialists are still adding to it."

"You have proof of these claims?" Emily demanded while seething inside. She knew that Calvert was a slime-ball, but this… "Not to mention, despite what Calvert or Coil did or haven't done, your response was out of any proportion."

"I'll answer your second question first. You can consider our little exercise in target practice a lesson and a warning. Neither the Mandalorian Freehold, nor the Federated Empire takes lightly to their interests being attacked. Neither do we let people get away with conducting deniable operations against us. Our neighbors should keep their rowdy elements in check or we'll do it for them."

"And if said neighbors can't keep their problem children in check?"

"Then they should be grateful for our benevolent assistance in putting their house in order." How the Chiss said that with a straight face, Emily would never know.

Still, the Director did receive the warning loud and clear, it was something that made the government's plans of clearing Brockton Bay a high priority before either the ABB or the Empire decided to rock the boat and saw large parts of the city burned to the ground around everyone's ears.

"Let's get back to Calvert and Coil for now. As of this moment we lack credible evidence that the latter is really a Parahuman in the first place, much less his identity or the breadth of his alleged crimes." Piggot pointed out.

"Well, I can confirm that he is a Parahuman and has a very curious ability – for most intents and purposes he can live two timelines, chose one and still remember the events of the second. He can be at home or in the office in one, doing perfectly legal and mundane things, while he could order someone kidnapped and taken apart in the other so he could learn all their secrets, then collapse it and retain the information." Aria continued to smile pleasantly as she delivered her news. "Further, I do have a list with his agents in your organization..." The Chiss trailed off and waited for her words to properly sink in.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**8 January 2011**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

The implications weren't lost on Emily. If what the Chiss told her was true… She felt the beginning of a throbbing headache forming at her temples. With power like that a snake like Calvert could do almost anything. Who hadn't he grabbed and tortured in a throw away timeline? Piggot suspected that they had believed Coil to be a small fish because he allowed them to. He could simply erase any major mistake, conduct operations in reality only if they actually succeeded… Which begged the question, what changed? How did the Mandalorians get him?

And the answer was obvious, wasn't it? Whatever struck the precogs worldwide, and Coil's power was of that type, was still effecting him to some extent… and no one sane would go to the lengths the Mandalorians just did even in a place like Brockton Bay. Was Coil simply tasting the waters, the aliens' responses as well when something went terribly wrong for him? Did it matter at this point?

Emily stared at the blue alien, while thinking furiously about what they knew about the Force and what it might allow a Sith to do. About how much reality as they now knew it differed from fiction. More often than not in this business it was the unknown that got you, because you weren't prepared, because you were blindsided, with often fatal consequences.

How did Force related precog worked compared to Parahuman one? Was it effected as well? Was it the reasons why Parahuman precogs had their issues now?

"What do you intent to do with Calvert, Commander Astra? Will you provide us with list of these alleged moles and the proof about their crimes?" Those weren't the questions Emily wanted to ask. In fact, right now, she didn't feel like speaking with the alien at all and instead dearly wished to wrap her hands around Calvert's neck and strangle the life out of him for creating this mess in the first place.

"An acquaintance of mine would be interested in studying him. With any luck, we might finally get her safely away from Coruscant." Aria smirked. "Perhaps even convince her to visit and study Parahumans in their natural environment."

Despite the conversational tone used by the Chiss, something told Emily that Calvert wasn't going to enjoy meeting the person Astra spoke about. In fact, she was also sure that she would rather be retired or fired before said person decided to visit Earth Bet in general and Brockton Bay in particular.

"As far as the list goes," Aria removed a thumb drive from a well concealed pocket and levitated it until it lightly landed in front of Armsmaster.

"Thank you." The Tinker spoke gruffly. His hand struck like a snake, snatched the small drive and pocketed it for later.

"You're welcome. From what we gathered so far, your errand boy have been quite ambitious. He wanted your post, Director Piggot, so he could control the PRT and Protectorate openly as Calvert and use them to destroy any syndicate his Coil persona couldn't easily subvert. For example, he did have the civilian identities of most of the so called Nazi Parahumans ready to be exposed, with the blame going to whoever would be most convenient, including the PRT."

"Identities you now have?" That was more than a question than a statement.

"Identities that we now have." Aria answered with a small amused smile.

Piggot swallowed a groan as her headache practically exploded. She wouldn't be surprised that if the PRT and Protectorate failed in eliminating the Empire 88 in short order, the Mandalorians would use their newfound knowledge to help them subvert and take over said gang. It was confirmed that the aliens had received "envoys" from the Nazis and said envoys had been allowed to leave peacefully. At least that happened before the Coil debacle, though now Emily was sure there would be more meetings. It wasn't like the Mandalorians were likely to care much about the unwritten rules, they were among the very few people on the planet who could get away with openly disregarding those at a whim and damn the consequences.

Why wouldn't they? Any risk of retaliation, well ultimately the aliens could afford to lose their whole contingent on Earth and it would mean next to nothing for them. After all, for a state operating on a galactic scale, the Mandalorians' involvement on Earth didn't have a meaningful impact on their resources. It wasn't even a drop in the ocean. And that was just the Mandalorians and then there was that Federated Empire of theirs. Emily knew the score, knew it was vital for Earth to send a delegation to the other side so their people could see first hand exactly how outclassed they were and try and figure out any political restrain that might be used to shield Earth.

On the other hand, the loss or preferably capture of Commander Astra might have an impact, yet that was the one thing most likely to be answered with orbital fire, if for no other reason but to make a point.

Fucking Sith.

"As far as further explanation of our actions go, such is not necessary. You've allowed mere syndicates to run unchecked throughout your city, Director. I don't really care about the reasoning, neither does our parent corporation, much less the Freehold's government. We will be receiving more of a consideration than a mere syndicate."

Even for someone accustomed to taking bitter pills as a matter of course, this one was hard to sell. Until recently, this was just one city left to die on the vine as Parahuman crime tore it asunder, while Emily and her people did their best to keep everything from imploding. Even worse, the precedent that the PRT and Protectorate allowed to fester in Brockton Bay, was shamelessly used by the aliens. Because what could she really say to them? That the United States government would allow an interstellar power that held almost all the cards less latitude to act and defend its interest than mere gangs… even if for most intents and purposes that seemed to be what the powers that be wanted. The sheer hypocrisy of the idea was stunning and Piggot did have the sense not to even imply that this was the case.

Miss Militia on the other hand bristled at the very idea, yet thankfully she managed to keep her mouth shut, something that obviously greatly amused the Chiss.

"Now with these unpleasantries out of the way, there is another reason I'm here today. I'm to officially offer an invitation to Earth Bet's stable governments to send representatives for the celebrations of Empire and Victory day, both on Coruscant and Mandalore. We'll offer transportation, lodging and security to said delegation for the duration, which should be between nine and ten days, accounting for the week long celebrations and travel time. More details should be forthcoming some time tomorrow local time and I'll have someone relay them to you in person. We'll be scheduling a press-conference to announce this development once we hear from the Empire's Diplomatic Corps."


	27. Chapter 11 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****1**

**=MK=**

**Part ****3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**9**** January 2011**

**Mandalorian Knights' FOB**

**Docks**

**Brockton Bay**

It took longer than she hoped for Aria to hear from her Master, especially given the latest developments planet-side, though considering his responsibilities as both Mandalore and a General in the Imperial military, he more often than not had his hands full and that was before she took into account all the schemes he had running on the side. Schemes like the one she was currently involved in. Delkatar contacted her couple of hours after Aria received the missives from the Imperial Diplomatic Corps containing the official invitation and guidelines about the suggested number of Earth Bet's delegation, transport and security arrangements, the works.

That was very much expected and prepared for, and said missives were already on the way to the local PRT HQ. The arrival of a small group of trainees, a representative of Mandal Motors PR department and a small group from legal, that was foreboding, heralding legal and media complications. The first group's presence soon became obvious, though it was still going to be a pain to deal with – someone higher up in the corporate food-chain had decided that Earth's location made it a good training ground for various prospective future employees to wet their feet so to speak. The trainees had a simple job – arrange Mandal Motor's presence in various local expos to gain a bit of experience before biting into similar work in places that might actually matter for the bottom line. Thus, Aria sent the trainees to pester one of the free Knights and focused her attention to the other new arrivals.

The PR rep's presence more or less made sense – the young Bith woman was here to handle the local media, get a grip on the situation and sent a report to her superiors so they would have first hand accounts when deciding how to present Earth Bet to the galaxy at large if it became relevant.

The lawyers on the other hand… The first one of them was a Hutt of all things, though she was possibly the most slim one of those worms in existence, muscular too. She wore something vaguely resembling a pink robe and had a small swarm of hover droids buzzing around her carrying data-pads and other assorted equipment. The second one was a distinguished looking old human who carried himself with dignity. The man looked regal with his dark suit, silver hair and solemn expression, a fine example of Core Nobility or so he seemed, which immediately made him out of place as a lawyer working for Mandal Motors outside of the Core itself.

The third and last member of that small group was a very much familiar droid, who was currently painted in a soft brown color. This was going to be another one of her Master's shenanigans, Aria just knew it.

"Commander Astra, is there a place we could speak?" The old human spoke in a distinct Coruscanti accent.

"My office. Please follow me." Aria marched towards the back of the warehouse followed by a two pairs of shuttling feet and a large form dragging itself over the concrete floor with seemingly no effort at all.

They entered the small office and the guests only managed to barely fit in there only because the Hutt coiled herself in the left corner like a giant snake. Aria activated the security measures, bathing the whole area in static and other, more esoteric anti-listening measures. Only then she focused her piecing gaze on the brown droid.

"HK, explain." The Chiss demanded.

"Introductions are in order first, I believe, my Lady. My companions are Lord Kleon Hurst, from the Hurst Dynasty on Coruscant and Ms Nalia. Both of them are members of Mandal Motors legal division. For my stay here, I am HCP-117, Human Care and Protocol druid." HK smugly explained.

"You're masking as a glorified butler now?" Aria stared at the ancient engine of destruction in stark disbelief.

"I'm my Lord Hurst's humble servant." HK offered a respective nod to Aria and proceeded to bow deeply to the supposed human noble.

"Someone explain this insanity to me right now, preferably before I've lost what little is left of my temper!" Aria ordered. Was this her Master's sick sense of humor raising up it's ugly head? She knew that the last couple of years of relative peace can't be good for him and by extension, anyone else in the general vicinity… Was Veil getting _bored?! _

"We all know that the Clone Wars and their immediate aftermath reminded everyone sane in the galaxy that might does in fact make right." Lord Hurst began. "Nowadays, interstellar law and agreements have to be backed by raw military might, the good old days what the mere presence of the defunct Republic was enough to more or less keep the peace and trade flowing are now gone."

"I was there, Lord Hurst. I saw first hand how many of the core Republic worlds sold out the Republic for power and a better place in this Empire of ours. I was there when many systems returned to the fold under the implicit threat of immediate military intervention they couldn't hope to fend off. And most importantly, I was there when whole sectors bend the knee instead of risking the wrath of either my Lord or the Lady Zash."

"True, true." The old man waved a hand in a placating gesture, all the while smiling disarmingly. "However, raw military power is merely one tool of many. While vital in safeguarding the Empire and the Freehold, it is laws enforced through it that allows everything to function properly. That's why we're here. There is no doubt who holds all the cards in any potential confrontation between us and the locals. We're here to help you formalize things through necessary treaties and properly enshrine reality into law."

"You aren't simply talking about the relations between our outfit, Mandal Motors and the locals." Aria's racing mind wasted no time in connecting the dots. "Are you really Mandal Motors lawyers?"

"We do have all the paperwork needed to prove it." This came from the Hutt, whose voice while deep as befitting a creature as large as her, was surprisingly pleasant. "However, not so long ago, we both worked for the Freehold's Ministry of Justice."

"That by itself doesn't rate him as either bodyguard or using you as camouflage."

"You'll have to speak with our Master about that, Lady Astra." HK pipped up.

"My humble servant aside," Hurst smirked, "we're in fact here to lay the preliminary groundwork for signing formal treaties establishing Mandal Motor's status on Earth Bet and through them opening the door for follow up negotiations and treaties between the Freehold and the locals."

That might even be the truth, it was just that, Aria was sure it was anything but the whole truth. Not with HK-117 prancing around masking as a butler droid… She really needed speak with her Master.

Naturally, when Aria did speak with Veil, she almost wished she had bought the lawyers' story at face value and left it at that…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**MFW ****frigate Peerless Warrior**

**Mandalore**

The frigate's full marine contingent assembled in the docking bay fully kitted out for war. The escort ship itself was carefully aimed away from anything important, which was probably an overkill because of the cruisers drifting in formation nearby, covering the small ship with their weapons and tractor beams.

The reason for the paranoid security measures weren't the prisoners currently locked in stasis in the brig, neither the imminent arrival of Mandalore himself. Instead, it was all because of a small, grumpy Sullustan male waiting patiently in front of the assembled platoon of heavy armed and armored troopers, who divided his time between glaring at them through artificial eyes and impatiently tapping at the deck with a few of his eight spider-like prosthetic legs. No one among the security contingent, neither the Commander in charge of the frigate was sure what they should find more disturbing – their guest, his two huge Trandoshan "bodyguards" or the small metal case he clutched in a pair of artificial hands coming from behind his shoulder.

This Sullustan was Professor Trort Gangos, an infamous cybernetics specialist who used to work for the Techno Union until the Black Rebellion, when he fully earned himself the reputation of one of the most hated people in the galaxy. He was also a tried and supposedly executed war criminal, who both the Confederate Remnant and the Federated Empire agreed was better off dead.

Officially anyway.

Mandalore obviously had other ideas, something that didn't fill up Commander Ron Barnabas with confidence. He really didn't want to know what a Dark Lord of the Sith might cook up with access to this particular madman's expertise. Yet, considered what the Bloody Professor had wrought, who else could better to work on counter-measures against advanced models of war and terror droids?

That was the "official" line anyway. The Commander however didn't believe for even a minute that the piece of dreck blighting his deck worked simply on finding better defenses against the horrors he helped create so the rebelling droids could unleash upon the galaxy. That said, Barnabas knew better than to raise up a stink about this. While no coward, he wasn't eager to get on a Sith's shit list, especially now that the whole galaxy knew what hell a proper one could unleash.

Speaking about the devil…

"Shuttle on final approach." The Commander's XO announced from the CIC.

"Look alive people." Barnabas snapped and stood at attention just in time too, because moments later a sleek black shuttle tore its way through the atmospheric shield and suddenly decelerated to gently land in front of the greeting committee. A side ramp opened and a single armored figure marched down, trailing a knee long black cape that apparently shook from wind that had no place on board a properly maintained and not shot up ship.

"Captain." Mandalore nodded at Barnabas, speaking in a calm and collected voice, using the courtesy bump up in rank that a starship commander usually got even if their real rank was lower, like in Ron's case.

Veil turned his attention to the other visitor and his guards, studying the three of them for endless moments before offering a sharp nod. "Professor Gangos." Mandalore spoke in a tone void of any trace of emotion. "Walk with us." He turned towards the closest exit leading towards the detention center, before motioning the Commander to follow. "We don't need that much security for this. You can dismiss your marines, Commander."

"I'll be more comfortable if they accompany us, sir." Barnabas countered.

"And I would be more comfortable if we didn't require the good Professor's expertise. We don't need that much of an audience." Mandalore turned his helmet to stare at the Commander.

Despite the helmet, Barnabas could feel the crushing weight of the Sith's gaze pressing upon him. He swallowed through a suddenly dry throat and dismissed the marines in a voice that had more in common with a croak than his usual baritone.

Veil led the way, with the murderous cyborg and the Trandoshans scurrying behind them, forcing Barnabas to hurry up.

"Congratulations, Commander." Veil spoke again only after they all got into the turbolift, which was a decidedly uncomfortable experience considering some of the occupants. "You and your ship are now part of the Special Operations Command."

Barnabas winced at that announcement, wondering if it was because of his little stunt back at the hangar or if it was inevitable from the moment the Bloody Professor arrived.

"Everything you see or her since our arrival is classified under Code-Word Vermilion, designation Black."

"I understand the implications, sir."

"Good."

Black was the designation for some of the rumored blackest project the Freehold was running, pun intended, while in theory, Vermilion was more innocuous – generally anything falling under cuber-defence or offense fell under it. Nowadays that included enhancing personnel with cybernetics, protecting them against subversion as well as the other side of that particular coin. That in fact explained the butcher's presence on board and that realization made Barnabas feel queasy. He glanced warily at the metal case carried by the cyborg, then at the Trandoshans, hoping that the bastard hadn't already compromised them. Mandalore being a Sith would know if that was the case, right?"

A few minutes later they were past two security checkpoints and entered the detention center where a fire team of Marine were on duty.

"Leave us." Mandalore ordered in a tone that left no place for argument. The troopers saluted and scurried out, leaving only Barnabas and his four guests in the small circular room leading towards the cells. "It's time for you to do your magic, Professor." Veil waved towards the cells and the saurians stalked silently that way moving too quietly for such a big and heavily armored beings.

"Do I dare ask why?" Barnabas looked helplessly at the atrocity that was about to unfold.

"Information. I have suspicions about what is happening on the world behind the portal. The prisoner might be able to shine some light upon it, however if I'm right he won't be able to do it willingly even if he wants to." Mandalore explained.

"He's compromised?" Barnabas winced. That would explain the presence of the Bloody Professor and whatever horror the bastard brought on board.

"Many on the other side are. The question is how and by what."

Hells, this was getting worse and worse by the moment.

The Trandoshans came back dragging the stasis pod containing the prisoner – a tall, thin man who looked almost emaciated. He wore a one piece skinsuit with a snake motif, something visible through the transparent lid of the pod. One of the saurians worked the controls and the stasis generator shut down with a whine. The pod hissed and began opening. Meanwhile, the cyborg worked the metal case he brought with his artificial arms and popped it open.

Barnabas blanched and jumped back when he saw the large metal beetle that silently flew out of its container. It buzzed couple of times, turned to look at the Professor before circled in place and shot at the head of the still sleeping prisoner. It landed on top of his head and its legs stabbed down making the poor bastard convulse as it injected nanobot chains straight into his brain. The damn puppeteer droid chirped happily and flew away, heading towards its container.

Barnabas wished that he didn't know what exactly was happening right now, however he had seen such sights before, during the war. This was a much cleaner version of the process too, especially compared to the original much cruder puppeteers, which buried themselves into people to take control, sometimes even rebuild them leaving only the skin and top layers of flesh as a camouflage. The newer models of those horrors unleashed in the last months of the Black Rebellion were even scarier, much more insidious. Just like this one, they used nanobot chains to take control of people leaving little to no visible trace and requiring either a Force Adept or deep scan to determine if there were puppets walking around.

The horrors those things unleashed when released upon civilians were something Barnabas was trying to forget very hard indeed. Being here, watching Mandalore himself authorize something like that, it made him feel sick, even if he knew that if done "right" the procedure was great as far as extracting information went. Being interrogated this way was bad enough. Becoming a puppet locked inside your own brain while under the control of a murderous machine hating everyone living, that was fate worse than death that all too many people experienced during the war.

If Mandalore was disturbed by what he authorized and witnessed, he didn't show it at all.


	28. Chapter 11 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. I make no money from it.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****1**

**=MK=**

**Part ****5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**MFW ****frigate Peerless Warrior**

**Mandalore**

It has been over sixty years since I was back on Earth and my memories of that time were muddled at best. There was a clear distinction between them and those after I found myself in this universe and under the influence of the Force. The former memories were often like a half-forgotten dream by this point, while I could clearly remember almost everything I've done since I began my Sith training at Korriban. That was less than an issue back then, when I most needed those memories, they were still fresher, less _faded. _Nowadays, however? When news of this so called Earth Bet first appeared, it sounded vaguely familiar but that was it. It took some time and reviewing a lot of intelligence before things began clicking into place in my head, and even now, my recollection of a work I haven't even finished back in the day were vague. There was a threat lurking behind Earth Bet, I knew that, yet all details eluded me. I might have never known them properly in the first place.

On the bright side, there were a few names that were familiar, sounding almost important when I racked my brain over them. Alexandria, Legend, Skitter, whoever or whatever that might be.

Coil as well. That's why I was here, on board of this frigate, overseeing an atrocity as efficient as any committed by the Sith of old without any second thoughts.

"Full penetration of the cerebral cortex, no counter-measures detected, then again, we're out of range of the portal…" Professor Gangos spoke in accented Basic.

My pet war-criminal was one of the few people aware of my concerns, and as expected given his profile, he was very eager in unraveling the mystery that was Earth Bet and the source of the powers there. They weren't based on the Force and our examination of retrieved tinker tech raised a lot of concerning questions. While the designs were often solid, especially for things often made of scrap, it simply shouldn't work considering that every single example had critical elements missing. While so far we could replace those and get the tinkertech in our possession to work, that still didn't explain why it worked on Earth Bet or close to the portal. That's why we had a freighter being modified with all known scanner types in order to observe tinkertech in actions and detect how whatever was responsible for it operation made it work.

Coil was a piece of the same puzzle. First, we were going to drain his brain from everything he knew, then put him close to the portal and see what the nanobots currently burying themselves in his gray matter would notice once he had access to his powers.

"And we have control." The Professor announced. That was fast, which was one of the primary reasons why the puppeteers were so universally terrifying – they needed less than a minute at worst to have full penetration of a person's brain and from that moment on, the poor bastard was a puppet they pulled through invisible strings, unless the victim was powerful enough Force Adept. In that case, survival and fighting was at least in theory possible, with a few known successful examples. Either way, the brain damage had been significant requiring extensive implants and Force related healing to bring those poor bastards to something resembling their past selves. The same was true for the relatively few people "saved" from the brain-jacks – the severe physical and mental trauma meant that they were never the same again even if they could eventually become fully functional.

The great majority of victims? They were as good as dead the moment a puppeteer got their claws in them.

"Beginning download. Do you have something of particular interests you want us to search for?" The Bloody Butcher asked. "You know we can't do it in real time here, I lack the facilities and support necessary."

"What he knows about powers and their source, who he worked for, his contacts, people to be wary of and critical targets to retrieve who might possess vital information. Give the rest to the Military Intelligence to go through."

"Why are you here anyway?" The Sullustan turned his head my way and looked up at me. "Why am I here in the first place? One of your minions could do this in their sleep. It isn't like the puppets are hard to operate."

"You're getting a facility in the area for when we need to get actionable intelligence fast and we don't have a Force Adept with adequate training on hand. If you're good boy, you'll be among the first who get to play with anything useful we retrieve which catches your interest. Like what some of the Masters down there can achieve without the Force or any technology the locals could detect."

"Like that Heartbreaker fellow?" The Professor perked up. "Turning people by making them love you, that isn't an avenue I've explored. Sticking the relevant implants in their heads is more reliable I think."

"Easier to notice as well. Someone mastered might be able to pass through most regular screening unless a Force Adept is involved." I countered. "The primary reason why I am here is as a counter measure in case something reacts violently to the puppet when we bring this ship close to the portal."

"Worst case scenario, this ship will be destroyed with us on board." Gangos glared at me.

"That would be merely a brief inconvenience for me if it happens and I am on board to prevent such an eventuality."

"What about me?" The Professor exclaimed.

"What about you?" I peered down at him. "You did cause me a lot of trouble during the last years of the war. You are alive because I find you useful, Professor, otherwise your death sentence would have been executed just like the galaxy at large believes it was. This is merely a friendly reminder who owns you. Don't think I haven't noticed your little side projects."

Gangos froze in place and his small dark eyes looked wildly around. The feeling of his terror was like a glass of sweet wine to my senses.

"You're very good, Professor. One of the best even. My people are very good as well. Your primary utility is that you lack any and all moral scruples that hold back better people than either of us. You can continue to pursue your interests within reason, just like Zash does on Coruscant. We both know what will happen if you step out of line, do we not?"

Gangos nodded so rapidly it looked like his head was about to fly away.

"I don't want to know, do I?" The Captain of the vessel muttered quietly.

"You have more than enough nightmare fuel already Commander. It is not prudent to add to it unless you really have to."

Couple of hours later, the puppeteer had a comprehensive map of Coil's neural network, and more importantly, his memories ready to be processed into a more useful format. The frigate slowly moved into position, still escorted by a cruiser division that had it locked in with both weapons and tractor beams. As we approached the portal, I submerged myself in the Force, my body becoming little more than anchor while my awareness expanded and slowly drifted within an endless ocean of power. We passed through an invisible line and Coil twitched.

"The puppet is going active, attempting to use it's power…" The Professor announced without looking away from a data-pad connected with the nanite cluster within Coil's brain. "Huh, that's a lot of new data, copying it in real time within fresh data storage…"

"There's nothing out of the ordinary we can detect." That came from the ship's XO in the CIC.

Looking at Coil through both my eyes and the Force, initially there was nothing to notice, besides the obvious familiar worngness that came with someone being a puppet. I focused, going deeper, until I was aware of the nanite strands perforating his brain. I could brush over the surface of his mutilated mind and drank in the horror he could now experienced after the puppeteer had Coil fully awake and as aware as he could be in order to force him to use his power.

He was screaming inside, begging for release, scrambling to figure out a solution, because until very recently he simply _didn't _lose, _couldn't _lose because of his power. A power that was now a curse because no matter what he tried, the nanites wouldn't allow him to get rid of them and unless the gestalt allowed it, he wouldn't even be able to give an outward sign that he was a puppet. It knew what Coil might try as soon as the thought crossed what was left of his mind and even that was only possible because this was one of the newest and most modern puppeteer models, refined to cause less damage and keep more of the original personality intact in order to act as a better camouflage.

This has to be hell for him, and he knew it. No matter how much times he tried, it wouldn't matter. All his power did was ensure that Coil would experience agonizing failure twice as fast and soon he got that fact, which plunged him in gibbering spiral of utter despair spiced by flashes of hatred aimed at everyone who brought him this low.

I went deeper, crushing through his mind and searching for the trigger that launched his power. I almost missed it too, because to my senses it was like it was a mirage that one might barely perceive. It was like a buzz just outside the ability to hear consciously, yet still irritating. I focused on the distortion now that I knew where it was and merely observed without probing or prodding it. It was fascinating – like it wasn't really there or what I perceived was merely a much smaller part of something larger existing beyond the scope of my ability to experience.

"Have him stop using his power." I ordered in a distant voice.

The Professor grumbled but complied and suddenly the distortion almost fully went away, leaving merely a ghost of a touch behind. So this was the so called Corona Potentia. It was nothing else but a transmitter for whatever gave people on Earth Bet powers. While interesting and confirmation that we now had a starting point to investigate, it still left the question how tinkertech worked without anything similar my engineers and scientists have been able to find. I really didn't like the implications of the most obvious theories on that front.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part ****6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Royal Palace**

**Sundari**

**Mandalore**

Danny Hebert felt many conflicting emotions as of late. Fear and sense of failure were predominant, soothed only by a dull relief that Taylor was handling things better than she had any right to be. That however was a state of affairs he was afraid might not persist for much longer.

There was no reason whatsoever that the head of an interstellar state would take notice of two nobodies like the Heberts, no matter if Taylor was a Parahuman or not. Yet, here they were, following another invitation that they could not possibly refuse. Danny did his best to keep a brave, nonchalant front for Taylor, so she wouldn't be concerned. That was probably the only thing he could do for her, considering that they were both neck deep in a nest of vipers. Dealing with Brockton Bay's local politics, which his job often required as a head of hiring for the DWU certainly didn't prepare Danny for rubbing elbows with such people. Hell, probably no one on Earth was ready for something like this, yet here they were!

The two of them disembarked from the shuttle that brought them to the underground portion of the palace, which obviously was the only part that had survived the fighting that ravaged the city. The hangar itself was cavernous and well lit, almost full as well. There were dozens of vehicles parked around – from two lines of tanks resting on wide tracks in one corner to large possibly fighters carrying a lot of big weapons. One of the first things that struck Danny about all that hardware was that it had little to nothing in common with what he recalled from Star Wars. No X-Wings or TIE fighters, almost nothing that reminded him of the Empire in the movies.

Well, the ships they saw in orbit was a pointed reminder where they were, however what they saw since then raised many questions he lacked good answers for. One thing was certain, he knew even less than he thought about all of this, which was even more disconcerting.

The Droid who was their primary minder led the way past busy maintenance crews and security until they reached a pair of doors that were nearly twice taller than Danny where they had to wait to be scanned by an eight person security detail wearing bulky armour and weapons large enough to be vehicle mounted. Light blazed from a spherical device mounted above the door and washed over the Heberts making them feel a moment of warmth before it flashed off. A trooper a head taller than Danny, who had yellow stripes on his shoulders, consulted a bulky data-pad large enough to be used comfortably by armoured fingers and nodded.

"You're not compromised and are on the list. Follow HK-117 and stay away from the restriction sectors."

"Compromised?" Danny asked, while Taylor merely looked curiously at everything around them,

"Did you live under a rock or something?" A deep, vaguely feminine voice came from the far right.

"Or something." Danny noted.

"Our guests don't know about all the fun we had during the Black Rebellion. They were lucky enough to be away for it."

"Lucky bastards…" A different guard muttered.

"I've heard about a Black Rebellion but not what exactly it was… People don't want to talk about it."

The man in charge of the security detail snorted. "With a good reason girl, it was hell and some people were lucky it didn't really reach them so they can't telly you much beyond rumors and what they saw on the news. Don't you have places to be?"

"We do. Do open the door, Sergeant."

The NCO pressed a few buttons on his data-pad and the armored doors leading out of the hangar slid open with a quiet hiss that was barely audible over the noise coming from the hangar.

"What exactly was the Black Rebellion?" Danny fished for information. It might be useful to know and possibly a good way to distract him from the knowledge that they were led straight into the lion's den.

"I'm not surprised you were unable to gleam any real details. That particular mess didn't directly effect Mandalore after all. During the Clone Wars a large number of the Confederation's Droid Armies went rogue and began a Droid Rebellion, the now infamous Black Rebellion. That was bad for many reasons and large parts of the Empire still bears the scars."

That summary was very unhelpful, probably because it was intended as such. HK led them in silence through multiple long corridors and a few turbolift rides until they reached their destination – a small dinning room that was richly decorated like something straight out of a movie. It was a blend of metal and wooden furniture, fabrics as well all weaved in a tasteful yet alien way. A not too large round table covered by what looked like a silk coverall took up nearly a third of the room. It was surrounded by intricately carved cushioned wooden chairs that simply fit with the rest of the furniture. The various colored glasses and utensils on the other hand were intimately familiar – nothing out of the ordinary there.

Danny had seen the man and woman that soon made their way inside flanking a grumpy looking and frowning Sabine of course – it was hard not to with large holographic images of both of them making public announcements or being shown on the news. What they wore on the other hand was a surprise – Bo-Katan Veil, Mandalore's wife, arrived wearing a simple light green blouse and pants that closely hugged her figure and showed well toned muscles. Even after days on Mandalore and catching snips of many news programs in the hotel, Danny still didn't have an idea what exactly she did besides being part of the military.

Veil on the other hand, the Dark Lord of the Sith himself, was a huge letdown appearance wise. He appeared to be in his late thirties, perhaps early forties, had a short cropped black hair and unremarkable face that you could easily forget in a crowd. No black veins or glowing yellow eyes, no mad cackling, he just simply was. The closest thing that might very vaguely point that he might be a Sith was the black clothes – pants and blouse with a nice cut that obviously didn't restrict his movements, with the only color being a silver buckle in the shape of a leering animal skull.

"Mr Hebert, Ms Hebert," Bo-Katan smiled pleasantly and welcomed them in a deep voice containing just a hint of a rasp. "Sabine here wouldn't stop praising you." She ruffed the grumpy girl's hair.

Ironically, it was Bo-Katan who had golden eyes streaked with green, but that might have been just the light. A short introductions followed, with Mandalore introducing himself merely as Delkatar Veil, doing or saying nothing that one might expect from a Sith. If the plan was to keep Danny off balance, it certainly worked without a hitch.

A pair of orb-shaped droids carrying trays came in as soon as everyone sat and began serving roasted meat and vegetables.

"As you can guess, this isn't just a social meeting." Bo-Katan glanced at Sabine who rolled her eyes.

"The thought have crossed my mind." Danny carefully nodded and now was his turn to glance at Taylor who had figured out that something was odd and intently watched their hosts.

"Don't get me wrong, the offer my Apprentice gave you back on Earth still stands. If Ms Hebert is up to, we can offer her training, both at a secure location near the portal so she could exercise her powers in safety as well as physical conditioning and assorted combat training if she intents to become a part of the ridiculous games the so called capes play on Earth Bet." Veil offered kindly while occasionally sipping from a glass full with clear bubbling liquid.

"That's appreciated, really!" Danny hurriedly nodded. He knew that he should be very careful not to even think about lying during this meeting. Offending their host could prove a disastrous idea after all.

Fortunately, Taylor did pick up on his que and thanked their hosts as well.

"However, I have the feeling that you're about to make us a different offer." Danny continued.

"That much must have been obvious." That came from Bo-Katan. "My husband already has a small group of Parahumans in our employ. Among other things they serve as consultants about the culture and the way things work on your homweworld. They also happen to be quite young, about Ms Hebert's age. We've offered them a good compensation for their trouble, access to modern medicine and if they so wish, either citizenship in the Freehold, a place to safely retire or both, with all that entails."

Danny closed his eyes when the full scope of those words dawned upon him. While it was true, he didn't know much about the state of the galaxy or the politics involved, it was damn tempting. Really, would it be too bad to work for a Sith considering what was happening back home? Gangs, Endbringers, crazies like the Slaughterhouse… and now Taylor was a Parahuman and from what Danny knew about them, the odds of her staying home when not at school instead of going out and getting into trouble were remote. His knee-jerk reaction would be to forbid it, it would be the sensible and responsible thing to do surely, however he suspected even mentioning the possibility might backfire, especially after the way he had dropped the ball concerning Taylor's life in general.

On the other hand, this man was a Sith and he was going to make an offer, one that they might not be able to refuse no matter if it was a good idea or a disastrous one.

"My offer is similar to that I gave the so called Undersiders. The high points are as follow: a safe place to live, citizenship, education, training and if you want to return to Earth Bet, Mr Hebert, Ms Hebert, backing within reason from an interstellar nation."

Taylor gasped and stared at the Sith with an open mouth and wide eyes, while her new friend giggled at her expression. Danny on the other hand was busy trying to figure out the why of it.


	29. Chapter 12 Interlude and Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. ****It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****2**

**=MK=**

**Interlude: PHO Experiment the Second**

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**Topic: Aliens are real! Mandalorian Knights – Alien Mercenaries!**

**In: Boards – Topic – News – Events – America **

**Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know) **

**Posted on January 10th 2011:**

Well now, I'm not really sure what to say. This happened. Ahem, for those of you living under a rock or dealing with blackout, check the President's press conference – LINK, LINK, LINK. To summarize the latest insanity all of us on Earth Bet have to deal with, the PMC Mandalorian Knights who set up shop a few weeks ago in Brockton Bay and became famous for waging and winning the Battle of Brockton Bay (LINK) against the local Parahuman gang the Merchants, well it turned out that their name wasn't an accident. They're real Mandalorians, like from outer space… and I'm beginning to ramble. Just watch the press conference and if you're like me and in a need of a drink or ten, I won't blame you. I'll probably edit the post for better readability and to make more sense later, but I digress.

Yes, boys, girls and you other people, you heard it right. The Mandalorian Knights are real Mandalorians. Apparently, some of their scientists working on enhancing hyperspace travel accidentally opened a dimensional portal that links up Mandalore itself with our star system. How that makes any amount of sense no one currently knows, however it's also largely irrelevant.

Yes, that means Star Wars is a very real thing on the other side of the portal and from what I gather from the press conference, we're all in a very _interesting _position. Like potentially fucked up even more than all our assorted villains and the Endbringers together manage to do it all year long, every year for decades now. Timeline wise, apparently the Mandalorians have just come out of the Clone Wars two years ago. Yep, you heard me, the Clone Wars are over and were apparently both nastier and different from what we know from either our SW franchise or that on Earth Aleph.

First the "good" news, Palpatine, A.K.A. Sidious, also know as the Emperor from the Original Trilogy and the Prequels is very much dead, assassinated by the Jedi in what might have been a partially successful coup. Just don't go cheering anywhere a person from the other side of the portal might hear, because he apparently died a martyr for democracy, the Republic and all that was good and nice in the galaxy, before the war fully went off the rails.

There is an Empire, which is possibly the current galactic super-power, a Federated Empire instead of the Galactic Empire we're familiar with and many love to hate. What the differences are in practice we don't really know, beyond a few obvious facts. Palpatine is dead and thus not running the show. Instead, and I kid you now, you can hear about it in the press conference, the current Emperor and Empress are Obi-Wan and Satine Kenobi, which I really don't know what to make of.

Now, I probably should stop writing and making a full of myself, edit this post once I'm more or less sober and act as the Guy in the Know you all love! Cheers and welcome to our new alien overlords!

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**Char**** (Veteran Member)**

**Replied**** on January 10****th**** 2011:**

Wut? I've been at work all day long and we've been pretty damn busy so until now I didn't have a moment to check up on my mail, much less listen to any press conferences or the news. Is this for real? You aren't fucking with us, are you, **Bagrat?**

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**AllSeeingEye (The Girl in the Know) (Mandalorian Knight) (Welcomes our new alien overlords)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

**Answer Key, **as I wrote last week, joke's on you. I can confirm that the Mandalorian Knights are indeed, well real to God Mandalorians, duh. I've been working for them since this Christmas, when they offered me and my crew a very lucrative proposition.

I'll explain a few things while Bagrat is too busy drinking himself to sleep and hiding below his desk. As he and the press conference, which is still in progress by the way, say, the Federated Empire we'll have to deal with isn't the Galactic one we know from fiction. I don't currently know how Star Wars exists both here and on Aleph and how a lot of backstory up until the Clone Wars is practically a dead ringer to what actually happened. The best guess of people looking into it is that someone had either created or stumbled upon a portal to our galaxy, found Earth and possibly leaked historical data. Either that or some weird power or tinkertech shenanigans were involved even before powers as we know them were a thing, so please keep speculation out of this thread.

From what I gathered, the Federated Empire is a constitutional monarchy established late in the Clone Wars when the Republic cracked and began to fall apart under the strain of the conflict. It is true that Obi-Wan Kenobi and his wife, the Duchess Satine Kenobi, formerly Kryze from Mandalore are Emperor and Empress. Speaking about Mandalorians and their presence here, the reason is simple – the solar system somehow correspond to the Mandalorian system, the capital world of the Mandalorian Freehold, one of the new powers that rose from the ashes of the Clone Wars and a large player within the Federated Empire.

While the Empire isn't run by the Sith this time around, we aren't so lucky. The current leader of the Mandalorian Freehold is Mandalore the Redeemer, a Dark Lord of the Sith, former General in the Grand Army of the Republic and now a high placed officer in the Imperial military to go with his political power as a head of state. That's the bad news. The good news, **Void Cowboy**, is that Earth simply isn't important enough to invade and the primary interest people have with us is both due to location and the fact that we're a version of Humanity's lost homeworld, because no one in the Star Wars, the galaxy, properly called Corcusca, remembers Humanity's origins.

I'll be posting more info and answering questions after the President's press conference is dome. The commander of the Mandalorian Knight's detachment in Brockton Bay might be available online to answer a few question as well later today.

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**Space Zombie (Wiki Warrior)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

God, this is for real. As I type this, I had the youtube live stream of the press conference open, though it just crashed… We're all fucked, aren't we?!

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**XxVoid_CowboyxX (Persistent Menace)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

I told you, didn't you?! But you had to mock me for pages on end! We're about to be invaded by the Sith and the Mandalorians! Flee for your lives! I'm grabbing my go to bag and getting out of the bay, now!

And what's with the that tag?! I'm not that bad, am I?!

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**Char**** (Veteran Member)**

**Replied**** on January 10****th**** 2011:**

I'm not believing I'm writing this, but I might owe XxVoid_CowboyxX of all people an apology. In other news, Hell has frozen, Sith, aliens and most importantly, Star Wars are apparently real… I don't even… To AllSeeingEye as well, you were right, ma'am. Please don't sick the Mandalorians on me!

As far as the tag go, well what did you expect, Void?

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**AllSeeingEye (The Girl in the Know) (Mandalorian Knight) (Welcomes our new alien overlords)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

I promise as long as you're a good boy, **Char.**

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**Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

Fuck this city, we've got ourselves an alien occupation army controlling the docks. What's next?

You know, I wrote a long ranting post, because I'm at the end of my rope here with everything that has been happening, then I had a thought… Can the Mandalorians, Imperials, whoever, do something about the rest of the villains in the Bay for starters? They already rid us of the Merchants, which honestly had been a long time coming. What about the Endbringers? Can they, you know, sent a ship to shoot the Simurgh or something? Blow up Behemoth or Leviatan the next time they rear up their ugly heads?

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**AllSeeingEye (The Girl in the Know) (Mandalorian Knight) (Welcomes our new alien overlords)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

I can confirm that there have been talks about those monsters on some levels. While we in the Mandalorian Knights would like to offer our assistance during the next Endbringer attack, I'm not sure what would it take to risk a ship against the Simurgh potentially giving her the tools to wreck either a whole continent or the planet. Needless to say, any such call for action is so far above my pay-grade, it's not even funny.

As far as the other villains go, the eradication of the Merchants and Coil's organization speak for themselves. Neither the Mandalorian Knights, nor their parent corporation, Mandal Motors, much less the Mandalorian Freehold as a whole would bow down to mere criminals, no matter their abilities. It's up to the so called Empire 88 and Lung's ABB what happens next.

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**XxVoid_CowboyxX, **if my new employers really wanted to invade Earth Bet, there would have been a battle fleet in orbit a few weeks ago and army groups ready to hit the ground to keep order and take possession of the planet. Both the Federated Empire and the Mandalorian Freehold operate on a galaxy wide scale. The resources they have available, well let's say that I needed a lot of painkillers and drinks to cope once those properly registered.

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**In the Inquisition we rust! (Veteran Member)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

The End is night! Repent and prepare yourselves! The legions of doom will soon descent upon us and only the righteous would be spared!

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**Space Princess (Veteran Member)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

And the crazies are coming out of the woodworks in droves now. This is going to get worse before it gets better.

Hey, **AllSeeingEye, **what about the Jedi? What happened after the so called coup? Was Order 66 called? Were they murdered all? What about Anakin, Padme and the others we all love?

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**AllSeeingEye (The Girl in the Know) (Mandalorian Knight) (Welcomes our new alien overlords)**

**Replied On Jan 10th 2011:**

Apparently, Anakin Skywalker is still happily married, doesn't need all the cough medicine, neither does he wear a certain very distinctive helmet. That said, I have it on good authority that if he hasn't already, Skywalker will be soon receiving a very expensive replica of Vader's infamous suit.

Senator Padme Skywalker is very much alive and a happy mother of a girl named Leia, so far we have no news about Luke being a thing. She's representing both her homeworld of Naboo and something called the Mid-Rim Alliance, Naboo was a founding member of during the war along with Eriadu and a number of other important systems in that area of space. For details, you'll need to ask either my current commander, Aria Astra or wait for more information from either the Freehold or the Empire.

As far as the Jedi go, that appears to be a touchy subject for everyone. People see them as heroes, terrorists who contributed to the collapse of the Republic and anything in between. Anakin Skywalker is still a Jedi Knight, and while Obi-Wan Kenobi had been kicked out of the Order shortly before the so called Jedi Coup, to the best of my admittedly limited knowledge, he still considers himself a Jedi Master. How that squares with Order 66 and it's aftermath, I'm not sure.

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**Part 1**

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**10 January 2011**

**White House**

**Washington**

**Earth Bet**

While the President was busy facing a room full of journalists backed by his Press Secretary, Hayes' Chief of Staff and the Foreign Secretary were cooped in the situation's room. Marlene Graves was busy watching multiple TVs turned on the various large news channels and taking notes, while Michael Winters was on the phone with his people in the State Department, making sure that as many potential international fires would be put down before they could properly flare up due to today's revelations. The only good news was that so far people were too busy watching and listening to the President to cause trouble, however even the most favorable predictions pointed to very "interesting" times in the days and weeks to come.

Nearby, members of Marlene's staff were busy monitoring social media, where the news about the Mandalorians being real aliens and that Star Wars was not only real but linked with the solar system was already spreading like wildfire. The saving grace was the same – there hadn't been enough time for people to pass through disbelief and shock, perhaps even awe, into fear, panic or worse. Give it a few hours at best and then all odds would be off. Predictably, everything began going downhill on the internet first, even before the State Department began fielding calls from every allied and neutral country on the globe, including the few friendly governments which should have received a head's up over the past few days. Needless to say, Winters and his people were going to more than earn their salaries in the days to come.

"We're seeing a lot of disbelief, talks about conspiracy theories and the first hints of fear and backslash." One of the aides monitoring the social media announced.

A lot of news channels were broadcasting the press conference live, often accompanied with commentary and the way a lot of people were handling the revelation was grimly amusing. Graves would take anything she could right now, because it was a given that things would get much worse before becoming better. It was a given that the usual suspects, conspiracy theorists and crazies would be up in arms, then there were the various militias and such, some of which did have the odd Parahuman on board.

The real source of trouble was going to be the Parahuman criminal element, which was one of the reason why in the end the President vetoed the idea of mobilizing the National Guard and having it ready for action before the press conference. They simply weren't ready for a potential confrontation with the various Parahuman villains all across the country if they got it in their heads that the US government would finally try to clean up house in a manner that had been a long time coming. While avoiding such a mobilization was sure to avoid large scale confrontations with the villain contingents, handling the expected protests and potential riots that might erupt as a worse case scenario without such backing would be much harder to say the least. And that was before taking the Parahuman element into account.

It was an imperfect situation all around, and a tactic acknowledgment that the US government no longer necessary had monopoly of power within it's own borders. That by itself would have grave consequences if it ever became a publicly acknowledged fact.

Then there were the politics of the situation, something they would all have to face soon. A lot of people both in the Senate and Congress weren't actually privy to the real situation and were bound to cause trouble, hell, some who knew what was what were certain to do so anyway. However, those could or at least should wait. Trying to keep the US from catching on fire was the first order of business, which meant reassuring the population at large as much as possible, which was going to be a tough for the President and everyone on the same page within the government.

Because, really, how did you make the Mandalorians led by an honest to God Dark Lord of the Sith appear nice and friendly? The same went for the Galactic, pardon, the Federated Empire.

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At the same time, President Hayes was busy pondering that particular issue, while finishing his prepared speech, written by the best people the White House had. Within moments, it would be time to answer all kinds of questions and he knew how he handled it would be critical in managing the reaction of the people willing to listen to reason. Those who would merely hear that aliens, Star Wars and Sith were real, some of them here on Earth, and the others nearby? There wasn't much he could do for their reactions.

"my sincere hope that this brings a new age of peace and prosperity not only to the United States but the world at large!" He finished his speech with his trademark smile and examined the gathered, mostly stunned reporters through merry, sparkling eyes. Hayes did his best to present the situation in a positive light, and there were positives to put an emphasis on as well as issues he would rather prefer be swept under the rug and so no one would ask about, however he doubted he was that lucky.

"Now, I will be answering a few questions." The President continued after giving his audience a few moments to gather themselves. "Gloria." He nodded at the resident reporter from the Washington Post.

"This isn't some kind of an elaborate joke, is it, Mr President?" The young woman asked with a shaky smile. "If that's not the case, then I must ask, what will you do about our new neighbors?"

"Like it or not, Gloria, I'm not joking. Everything I just told you and the nation at large is the truth to the best of my knowledge. My intentions are to pursue peaceful and mutually beneficial relationship with our new neighbors, the Mandalorian Freehold." Hayes offered a neutral answer and pointed at his next inquisitor, John Chase from the New York Times.

"Mr President, can you extrapolate on the invitation the Mandalorian Freehold has offered us?"

"In about ten days or so, the Federated Empire and Mandalorian Freehold will be celebrating the second anniversary of their Victory day, the date marking the conclusion of the Clone Wars and the third anniversary of the Empire's establishment. We were offered to send a diplomatic delegation for the expected week long celebration and by we, I mean not just the United States government but Earth as a whole. This even would be a great opportunity to learn more about the nations we now find our world bordering with and the galaxy at large, which will be vital in the long run. Next question…" Hayes looked over the reporters and nodded at the new CNN woman.

"Claudia Armstrong, CNN. Mr President, what's the government's stance on the Mandalorians deploying troops on American soil in Brockton Bay, in what some might call either a declaration of war or unlawful occupation?"

So much for the slim hope of sweeping the implication of that under the rug. Unfortunately, there was no good answer to that question, only bad and worse ones.

"First, Claudia, technically the Mandalorian Freehold hasn't deployed troops on Earth, which I know, is splitting hairs. The presence of the Mandalorian Knights PMC could very well be a legal fiction at best, however the truth is we don't really know, thus the need to gather more information about the Freehold and the Federated Empire, how they operate, what rules and laws bind them, and anything else of importance. On the face of it, despite their advanced technology, the Mandalorians currently on earth are small in number and lack heavy equipment, which at least in theory means that if we chose to do so, we can either evict or detain them if we decide that doing so is in our best interests. In practice, doing so, while within our technical capability can be less than stellar idea…" Hayes began, doing his best to dance around the issue.

On one hand, the last thing he wanted was for the narrative that the Mandalorians in Brockton Bay were occupying alien force. On the other, he had to keep the illusion that the United States government and military were still strong and could protect their citizens from everything short of the damn Endbringers, yet he couldn't even hint at direct military action being anything but a terrible idea, while not spelling out the reasons why. It was a given that people would speculate and that some would get the right conclusions. The government acknowledging said conclusions openly could be disastrous, especially coming from some as high profile as the President.

Only time would tell how successful he was in his efforts...

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**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	30. Chapter 12 Parts 2&3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. ****It is not for sale or rent.**

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**Chapter 1****2**

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**Part ****2**

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**Sundari  
Mandalore**

Making a deal with the Devil turned out to be surprisingly painless, for the time being anyway, Danny concluded. He actually had the gall to ask Veil, the Dark Lord of the Sith himself, why the man was being so nice when he didn't have to be and he still had trouble processing the answer, which caused tons of questions…

_"Being a dick without a good reason gains me nothing." Then the way the man frowned and asked if that had come through the translator all right had been almost hilarious and Danny might have laughed aloud if he wasn't so wound up because obviously, Dark Lord of the Sith. A sane and reasonable one, thus successful as Bo-Katan, the Sith's wife, put it to that man's amusement.  
_  
What happened this morning was another unexpected development, which was at least on the face of it, a good one. A shiny silver droid arrived at their hotel's door, looked Danny straight in the eyes, and declared: "Good morning, Mr. Hebert, I'm Erin, a Protocol Droid employed by Clan Veil. I'm at your disposal for the foreseeable future. My Master bid me to offer you and your daughter lessons in Basic and go over certain options you'll have in case you accept his proposition."

"Good morning. Do come in." A still sleepy and confused Danny muttered. "What options?" He moved from the door and only now he saw that the Droid was carrying a metal case the size of a regular suitcase.

"About your daughter's continued schooling, about the tests, she would need to undertake and various disciplines she'll have to catch up, so she could be on par with her future peers. Your education as well, so both of you could easily adjust to modern society and potentially find a job suiting your already existing skills."

"That's good to know, Erin…" Danny blinked at the silver machine. His sleepy mind was awakening as fast as it could without a strong cup of coffee and even as it was, he couldn't help but note how great an opportunity this was. There was no way any education back on Earth could compare to even the most regular and boring school here, much less the potential for higher education. A priceless opportunity indeed, which raised even more alarm flags. All told, it was a great deal, much better than they deserved, which raised the obvious question as to why did the Sith offer it?

"Further, I'm to facilitate contact with a legal firm of your own choice to go over any documentation you'll need to sign up about your future in case you decide to accept my Master's deal."

It was frankly a nice gesture, potentially meaningless considering what Veil was supposed to be, but still nice, which naturally confused the hell out of Danny

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**Thirty-first Assault Division encampment  
near Kaantay City  
Neimoidia  
**  
The war might have been over for nearly two years now, however, too many people simply didn't care, especially if the peace accords left their worlds in under enemy control. Then there were the remaining rogue Droid infestations still smoldering all over the galaxy. The Neimoidians homeworld had the distinction of having both problems. While a significant chunk of the population did accept the new order, there was a significant minority which was determined to resist to the last. As if that wasn't bad enough, there were still two active Droid production nodes protected by extensive fearsome fortifications, layers of shields. As if that wasn't bad enough, had access to both Geothermal power to help their extensive fusion fuel stocks last longer and access to sufficient resources to supply their factory complexes.

Ever since arriving at Neimoidia with her division, there were days when General Ahsoka Tano would like nothing more than to face the never sufficiently damned Droids because her current assignment was almost as bad as some of the worst atrocities ever committed by the soulless machines. She took a deep breath, enjoying the cool and clean mountain air, and looked around from the top of her mobile command center. A towering mountain range spread to the west, covered by extensive air patrols and a regiment of mountain fighters. A large, lush valley was nested below rolls of hills to the east and the north, well there was the city which was her target.

Kaantay City was one of the largest settlements on Neimoidia, a veritable megapolis. While much poorer compared to its counterparts across the various Neimoidian Purse Worlds, it was still an extensive place covering hundreds of square kilometers. It contained everything from spawning suburbs, industrial zones, and large warehouses surrounding small spaceports, to tall skyscrapers, which wouldn't be out of place on any well developed Core world. Initially, Kaantay's authorities had surrendered and for more than a year there had been hardly any incident, until a few months ago saw a sharp increase of attack aimed at Imperial citizens and personnel, compared to the planet's average, before the place erupted in an outright and successful revolt. A revolt fueled by a large number of modern weaponry and even larger stocks of war vintage equipment, stocks which most certainly weren't in the area a year ago.

Ahsoka and her soldiers drew the short straw, thus command picked them to take part in retaking the city. In fact, the 31st was to be on point among the army group which would execute the initial assault and secure the suburbs along with one of the nearby industrial zones. For the young former Jedi and now a proud Imperial Knight, this was going to be a trial of fire. There were just a handful of people left in the division from the war. Many friends and subordinates she had fought beside on a hundred worlds were now either happily back with their families and out of the military, promoted or reassigned. The 31st itself was practically a fresh unit rebuild around a small core of experienced officers and NCOs.

She looked away from the shimmering theater shield protecting the city and back to the camp around her. It was defended by extensive hastily build fortifications and it's own shield system – a vital precaution, which Ahsoka learned to rely on the hard way during the heavy fighting in the Corellian system. A large vehicle park laid to her right containing a number of heavily upgraded walkers – AT-TE's MK V, complete with shields, active and passive anti-missile systems, fully armored driver compartment and turret, among other improvements. They were ideal for the mountain terrain, especially when backed up by companies of proper tracked tanks, APCs and IFVs. Seeing all that hardware parked in neat lines while their crews and the division's support staff went all over them doing maintenance and checking for any issues before tomorrow's battle, always made Ahsoka feel both regret and anger.

The Grand Army of the Republic should have had access to this and more when the war began. The same was true for the state of the art equipment issued to the troopers, like the armor she currently wore. Countless people would have been alive if that had been the case, Clones, volunteer soldiers, civilians, men, women and children, friends both old and new…

Ahsoka smiled wryly at herself. It's been years now since she began to become melancholic at the eve of a battle and she was barely in her twenties. She knew it was the responsibility of command, the burden of sending good men and women to their deaths, even if as often as she could, the young Togruta fought right beside them. While there was a lot to be said for someone of her rank staying safe and sound back at a command center where she could best discharge her duties, her skills both as a Jedi and now a Knight, meant that as often as not, the best place for her was on the front, getting her hands dirty.

She took one last deep breath, enjoying the relative calm on top of the command vehicle and jumped down, landing beside the bantering troopers of the HQ protection company.

"General." Sector, their commander, grinned, revealing two rolls of shiny metal teeth. "Did you have your rest?"

"I just needed a moment for myself to clean up my head. How are you and the boys?"

"Ready and eager, General! We'll be right beside you tomorrow!" Sector pumped a fist in the air to ragged cheers from the nearby Clones.

He was one of the many Clones who eagerly agreed to remain part of the military after the war and the mandatory gene therapy that stopped their rapid aging. Sector was among the first batches of Kamino Clones and his weathered face and graying hair showed it – premature age and the rigors of five years of intensive combat had taken their toll upon his body. If it wasn't for the extensive cybernetic modifications he had eagerly undertaken under the aegis of Project Ascension, the Commander would have had to leave front line duty behind shortly before the bloody conclusion of the Clone Wars. Instead, he was still in the thick of it and loving every moment of mayhem he could experience.

This neatly explained why he eagerly became a Mandalorian shortly after Delkatar established the Mandalorian Freehold and made an open call for all like-minded individuals across the galaxy to join the new nation. Needless to say, a large number of Clones, both retiring from the military and still on active duty, took him on that and never looked back.

"That's the spirit!" Ahsoka said while shaking her head in amusement. She knew where they were coming from. For all the terrible things that came with war, there could be excitement, an indescribable feeling when you were in the thick of it, making you feel more alive than ever. Some called it battle lust, other madness, to Ahsoka, it simply was, no matter what Delkatar and Zash said. Besides, making Zash irritated and keeping as far away from the old prune was a great bonus, which was its own reward.

She left the bantering troopers behind and entered the command vehicle, where her staff was busy reviewing the plans for tomorrow one last time before they went to rest before the battle.

"General on deck!" A young adjutant exclaimed when she saw Ahsoka enter.

"At ease. Do we have any messages from Army Group HQ?"

"Just regular updates. Everyone is in position, the screening units report that there is nothing out of the ordinary and all critical maintenance should be completed by 22:00, including ours…"

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**=MK=**

**Part 3**

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_CNN Live – We have reports large gatherings in cities all across the country after President Hayes' stunning speech revealing first contact with aliens. So far they've been largely peaceful, however it's unknown if it will last. Multiple Governors have confirmed that they will be calling up the National Guard in case of disturbances…_

_Patrols made up by heavy armed and armored Mandalorians are clearly visible at the Docks in Brockton Bay. Any questions and attempts to interview them have been rebuffed with the statement that any relevant questions will be answered by their commanders during a future press conference. So far we have no word about when one will be scheduled and who will be invited to attend…_

_PHO turns out to be an unexpected source of information about the Mandalorian Knights PMC and the Mandalorian Freehold as a whole. A user with the PHO name AllSeeingEye, apparently a confirmed Mandalorian Knight employee from Earth was available to answer questions earlier today and promised that the outfit's acting commander on Earth would be available later today. If the claims are true, then this is currently the best source of information we have about the Corcusca galaxy and it's inhabitants besides the President's press conference and fictional Star Wars lore, which is obviously not necessary accurate…_

_Internet forums and social media aflame after the Great Revelation! Multiple sites, among them Youtube and Facebook have been crashing constantly since yesterday due to unprecedented amount of traffic._

_Long queues at supermarkets and local grocery stores are forming across the country, while scared people are hoarding in case of alien invasion. A significant number of people are fleeing major cities as precaution all the while various individuals are using the opportunity to spread fear and unsubstantiated rumors. _

_Multiple cults and even individual reputable churches have proclaimed the end of days and are preaching to the faithful to pray and prepare for the final battle…_

_Local police has detained groups of people heading for Brockton Bay heavy armed in order to help fight the alien invasion, the New World Order and the Illuminati… In one notable and amusing instance, for the good fight as Florida man Charlie Steward gleefully proclaimed state police stopped him over not working lights earlier tonight only to discover a literal arsenal hastily loaded in his sedan…_

_B__reaking News – The Teeth are on the move, allegedly heading for Brockton Bay for currently unknown reasons. This is the third villain group rumored to head towards the Mandalorian Knight's Forward Operations Base on the West Coast. Early tonight, sources within the PRT informed us that the Elite has sent feelers and capes to visit Brockton Bay and either reach an agreement with our alien visitors or barring that, acquire advanced technology by any means necessary. This comes hours after we received reports of a Family associated with the Fallen went off the grid. They're believed to want to either spread their "faith" among the Mandalorians or punish the unbelievers if they don't face fertile ground for their beliefs…_

_Breaking News – Slaughterhouse 9 strikes again! The small town of Church Creek, Wisconsin becomes battleground between the Chicago based Protectorate Team, PRT agents and multiple SWAT units against the monstrous villains…_

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**=MK=**

**Thirty-first Assault Division ****AO**

**Kaantay City ****outskirts****  
Neimoidia**

For thousands of years, large scale shield systems dominated warfare in general, especially planet side. Today was no different. Long range artillery and orbital support were out, unless the Empire was ready to write off the whole continent, because that was the kind of firepower needed to crack the shield protecting Kaantay City. Starving it out was impractical, especially when local authorities believed that a significant portion of the population was in fact sympathetic to the new order, not to mention that as far as the basic essentials like food and water went, the city was largely self-sufficient like most places on this planet. The fungus-farms which were practically everywhere ensured that there was more than enough food and a large river dividing the city did begin in the mountain nesting Kaantay.

As if that wasn't enough, the city was where a battalion of Imperial occupation troops had its HQ, backed up by local auxiliaries and their status was currently unknown, presumed either dead or captured. Obviously, that was a state of affairs the Empire couldn't allow to fester. The situation on Neimoidia and the Neimoidian's Purse Worlds under Imperial control was tenuous at the best of times after all.

It was at five thirty on a cold late fall morning, when Army Group HQ gave the order unleashing six division, four mechanized, one Assault and one infantry.

"Hound Actual to all elements, we're a go. I say again, we're a go. Proceed with assault plan Arubesh. Hound Actual, over."

A series of acknowledgments echoed over the Army Group command net and soon it was Ahsoka's turn.

"Hound Actual, Blade Actual, affirmative. Arubesh is a go. Executing orders. Blade Actual, over." The young General switched channels. "Blade Actual to all Blade Elements, Plan Arubesh, execute, execute, execute." And with those words, she became a glorified spectator for the first phase of the operation.

The assault on Kaantay City began with a missile barrage dispersing multi-spectral smoke canisters all around and over the shield, obscuring everything for kilometers around the city's perimeter in thick silver smoke. While that nasty stuff was an improvement by the smoke used by vehicles back in the war, if anything, it's effects were even more unpleasant for anyone unfortunate enough to inhale it. By default the damn thing wasn't supposed to be used when there were unprotected friendlies around and it was going to be murder to any civilians in the outskirts without proper gas masks. Unfortunately, that couldn't be helped. The initial assault through the shield was going to be all too bloody even with the Imperial divisions using every trick in the book, including multiple decoys, droid controlled first wave meant to absorb the enemy's fire, the works.

In the Thirty-First Assault division's sector alone, over a hundred of expendable machines surged to life and charged the shield followed by the first assault echelon a good eight hundred meters behind. A wave of punishing firepower came in response, splashing over shields or blowing large glowing craters in the ground. The enemy launched a large number of dumb-fire rockets, which went in for a saturation attack pattern. Due to the smoke and all the ECM blasted by both sides, a lot of those weapons did reach the targeted area and some of them even scored hits, demonstrating that they carried either powerful concussion or proton warheads. Anything less armored than a proper tank they hit often simply flew apart or immediately ceased forward movement while belching fire.

The droid vehicles still went on, headless of the losses, leaving behind a third of their number, primary the lighter ones. Less than half reached the shield itself, and only ten lived long enough to both open fire and transmit data of the active enemy weapon emplacements.

The second and last unmanned echelon hit, still having two thirds of their number relatively intact. They had targets too and passed through gun blazing and emptying their missile racks as if the ordnance was going out of fashion. Those decoys lasted more than long enough for the leading armored companies to pass through largely unmolested and the heavy Chimera tanks once again proved why they Imperial military gleefully adopted them as their own…

Scaled down turbo-laser cannons shattered buildings containing weapon emplacements, missiles and mortars launching thermal detonators rained hell upon the suburbs, while powerful shields and warship-grade armor shrugged enough firepower to slag lesser vehicles. Active anti-missile systems detonated incoming warheads in impressive pyrotechnic displays, jammers powered by the tanks fusion reactors filled the air with noise and while the enemy concentrated on the clear and present danger, IFV companies darted in, adding their own firepower to the unfolding battle.

Soon, Ahsoka's people began to die and she cursed the people and Droids behind the Black Rebellion for a thousandth time to the deepest pits of any hell that existed. If it wasn't for that particular insanity, the Empire would have been comfortable of using expendable Droid armies of their own, instead of making do with the absolute minimum they could get away with. Yet, at the same time, she simply couldn't disagree with the logic, even as concentrated firepower over-matched the protections of a second of her tanks and it went up in acrid smoke a moment before an IFV was hit when a line of enemy tanks, AAT-4s by the look of it, began a localized counter-attack.

"Fifth Echelon, advance." Ahsoka spoke harshly, in a voice that would have made her younger self recoil in shock. "Sixth Echelon will advance in sixty seconds." They had to clear the shield, secure a perimeter, establish their own tactical shield to avoid indirect fire and thus kick the door open for the second wave of the attack. And the Thirty-first was paying the price for it in precious blood.

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	31. Chapter 12 Parts 4&5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial purpose. ****It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****2**

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**11 January 2011  
Brockton Bay  
United States  
Earth Bet**

If nothing else, having access to possibly the best and safest drugs in two galaxies, was a great selling point about working for the Mandalorians, Lisa decided. The fact that they got Coil and it was almost certain that he wouldn't be darkening her doorstep again but was suffering under a Sith's "tender" mercies, well that was nice, especially after that crazy bastard sent a kill-squad after her. Or a retrieval one, which would have been worse. Right now, her power wasn't too sure about it.

Still, there were a few downsides to the new arrangement, because of course, nothing could come without strings attached. For one, betraying the Mandalorians, or worse, the Sith they all worked for in the end about anything meaningful, or anything at all for that matter, well ending up at Coil's mercy on a very bad day would have been preferable, she was sure. It was a very good thing that the offer they made her was great anyway because it wasn't like she was in a position to refuse it any more than she could Coil's. On the other hand, at least this time she did have decent retirement prospects if, for no other reason, it would be a good PR for the Mandalorians to be seen as not fucking over their people for no good reason. That you were safer working for a Sith in the long run than for Coil was saying something about both that snake bastard, may he burn in hell forever, and Earth Bet, Lisa dearly wanted not to think about and for once her power didn't bombard her with a headache or despair-inducing trivia. Said power was practically giddy, Tattletale was sure of it. There was so much new data at her fingertips, so much to go over and work on, that even with the good drugs and a Medical Droid floating around inoffensively, Lisa should have ended up curled under the bed, blind to the world. Instead, she was working with only the barest tingle of headache.

Did she mention that the Mandalorians had the good drugs, because that needed to be said, and stressed upon, again and again... The retirement plan as well, because otherwise, Lisa would have been tempted to run for it, for a simple reason. You didn't need her smug power, which was a headache-inducing revelation by itself, to figure out that everyone would be sending people or coming to Brockton Bay soon. The place would soon resemble a battleground, with all kinds of crazies trying to push the Mandalorians' buttons, the government in general and PRT, in particular, trying to keep a lid on it, and likely failing miserably, or perhaps succeeding, which was an option this time around…

Lisa looked away from the laptop in her lap, rubbed her temples, and re-focused on her job – trying to figure out who was going to ruin their day next, how, and how to prevent it. As far as the latter was concerned, the US government's plans she could glean hints of and make an educated guess about were probably the best bet that didn't include calling in reinforcements, escalating things further and turning Brockton Bay into a proper war-zone for good sooner rather than later.

"Boss-lady," Lisa called into her communicator. "I've got a few ideas on how to improve our security situation for the foreseeable future. I'm pretty sure the PRT and perhaps even the military will be moving in force to secure Brockton Bay and the surrounding area before our villains, local or otherwise, could provoke you further. If at all possible, we should probably offer them material assistance, that would not only strengthen our position, politically and PR wise, but act as a nice free advertisement of what we can offer them."

The logic was sound, and her power didn't even have to do much work on that front – Protectorate and military troopers outfitted with older, but still fully functional Star Wars armors, blasters with stun settings, perhaps some other surplus equipment before they moved on Brockton Bay in strength, that would be a great show of force, and most importantly, a more likely to be a successful one. Of course, afterward, things would become interesting for everyone involved in a novel and hard to predict ways, which made Lisa's power practically giddy. So giddy in fact, that she had no trouble imagining it like a little girl jumping up and down on the bed beside her in excitement.

It didn't help that somehow, said power felt even smugger at that thought.

"You're pretty sure our hosts are about to finally clean up house, at least locally? Weren't they supposed to be unsure they could win such a confrontation if it sparks unrest all over the country?" Aria asked for clarification.

"I'm sure they aren't happy, however allowing another gang to jump us and face the appropriate consequence is seen as worse for various reasons. I can give you as comprehensive a list as my power could manage with data available, if you so wish, Boss-lady." It never ceased to weird Lisa out that working for a Sith lacked the immediate threat of violence if you didn't answer promptly enough, had all the answers, or if something went wrong, no matter if it was under your control or not.

The same couldn't necessarily be said about her previous employer if you can call him that. She still had to remind herself that her new employers weren't nice people either, just somehow less malicious, something she was still trying to wrap her head around ever since her power agreed with her tentative, disbelieving assessment of them.

"I call it up the chain of command. I'm sure that there are a few warehouses full of vintage early war equipment waiting to be shipped somewhere at the first opportunity in the Mandalore system. Infantry gear, perhaps some medicine and riot control gear if available?"

"Yep." Lisa fought not to grin at the thought of either the ABB or the Nazi facing off Stormtroopers or the next best thing. She had no illusions of what would have happened to her if either of those gangs found and grabbed her first. The last time she thought about it, her power happily supplied her with a vivid description of the most likely outcome, thank you very much. "The sooner the better. I'm reasonably sure that the US government would be moving in to clean up the Bay within the week on the outside, likely faster."

"I'll have another talk with Director Piggot after I've heard from our people on Mandalore. Keep the good work, Lisa, and you might earn yourself a bonus."

"Thanks, Boss-lady!" Tattletale chirped happily and went back to work. The hazard pay she got out of being chased out of her apartment building likely made her one of the most wealthy people on Earth, or it would be once there was a proper exchange set up between Imperial Credits and any Earth currency.

The truth was that by the time she retired, Lisa was going to be one of the wealthiest humans on Earth, especially if she decided to live on Earth Bet… which she was almost certain she wouldn't because ending up somewhere safe and with full access to technology tens of thousands of years more advanced sounded great, even if it meant she should be frugal.

It certainly was going to beat living on the streets, on the run, and in fear almost constantly present at the back of her mind. Her power agreed as well, especially if she found some way to make it work on the other side for good, which would mean she would be set up for life… and possibly never get laid due to a constant influx of too much information…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Conference room  
PRT HQ  
Brockton Bay  
**  
Director Piggot sat lightly at the head of a long table, experiencing a sense of profound unease. The reasons were multiple. First and most obvious, her city was about to become an all-out battleground unless they did everything right, and the enemy cooperated. Needless to say, neither the Nazi's or Lung's organization would cooperate with their defanging and dismantling.

Second, their resident Sith called just before what should have been one of their last planning sessions before the shit hit the fan at sufficient velocity to cover the whole city and surrounding area in fecal matter and politely promised some surplus equipment for their operation. How the hell the aliens knew about it and were sure enough in their information to make the offer, Piggot dreaded to find out. One thing was certain, it wasn't a coincidence, neither was it a shot in the dark. The alien woman had sounded too sure of herself when she made her gracious offer.

Third and arguably personally most important, later today, Emily was finally going to meet Panacea, get her kidneys fixed and if there was anything good and just left in the world, she could consequently get hammered without the city going up in flames around her…

"Ladies and gentlemen, we just had a new development, one that might justify re-evaluating our plans and time-table…" Director Piggot began once all the resident representatives of the alphabetical soup took their seats, including the DoD people, and ten more officials, civilian, military, and law enforcement, appeared on screens strategically placed on the ceiling and walls. "I was just contacted by the Mandalorians, who are offering material assistance in the form of a battalion worth of small arms, armor, and advanced medicine, with the only catch being, we're to use the equipment for clearing up and securing Brockton Bay first. At a later date, we'll be discussing a contract for the maintenance, delivery of spare parts and munitions for said equipment…" Emily trailed off when predictably, utter chaos replaced the expected stunned disbelief.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**warehouse complex  
desert near Sundari  
Mandalore  
**  
As far as jobs in the post-war galaxy went, this particular one was great, as long as you found it acceptable to be the next best thing to a merchant of death. For a New Mandalorian, this wasn't a particularly happy state of affairs, however, Vergil Ordis was a realist – this was the best paying job he could find, the benefits were decent and he was ready to do anything within reason to provide for his family enough that his children didn't ask too much awkward questions about how being a pacifist on Mandalore affected your standing and weren't particularly good for your income nowadays. The constant propaganda streaming everywhere you turned was bad enough, listening to it all day long at work, was worse.

There it was again, the Sith himself, smiling pleasantly and promising everyone who didn't already have one, an arsenal fit to fight a not so small war, with enough ammo to make law enforcement from before the war looks funny your way and likely put you on a watch-list, traditional Mandalorian or not.

Especially if you were a traditional Mandalorian in fact.

Nowadays? There was the Sith again, offering for those willing to exchange older weapons and armor for discounted new models coming from either Imperial or Mandalorian industrial centers. Naturally, no one was particularly interested in talking about how the Sith, Jedi, and their ilk caused the war in the first place and it was all kinds of power-hungry maniacs and war-mongers that escalated it beyond any reason and led to the hell that were the last years of the conflict. No sire, it was all about discussing the merits of each Clan having enough weaponry and ammunition to conquer a well off the planet and how if that had been the case on Mandalore, then the Confederate invasion wouldn't have fared as well as it did.

Please, conveniently disregard any notions and evidence that the Confederacy first came to Mandalore because of Vizsla's maniacs, who were arguably the embodiment of traditional Mandalorian Warriors, then everything went worse because of the Sith the Clans gleefully elected as the first Mandalore in ages.

Naturally, everything went downhill from there, at least if you were a sane and reasonable being.

There weren't many of those left in the Federated Empire it seemed and those who had the good fortune and sense to secede while they could be now under tremendous pressure to get back into the fold with a smile on their faces or else. Truly, the galaxy was a dark place ran by murderous maniacs nowadays and anyone sensible had to keep their head down and hope to endure until sanity could return. If it returned.

Most importantly, you had to do your best, no matter how distasteful, to keep your family and friends convinced that this warrior nonsense was fit only to either get you killed or turned into a murderous brute. It didn't help any that such people were held in high regard and constantly heralded as heroes, many of them, safely dead heroes, killed in pointless fighting all across the galaxy to no benefit for their worlds and families to speak of.

It was one thing to fight the murderous droids in order to keep people safe. It was another to support the people who led to the Black Rebellion in the first place.

Damn, he was getting winded up, again, Ordis thought. But how could he not, when a party from Mandalore himself arrived not fifteen minutes ago, with all the proper paperwork to empty one of his warehouses and gather enough surplus equipment to fight a war, load it on a couple of small freighters to a destination unknown. It was days like these when Vergil dearly regretted the choices that led him here. Still, it paid a bit more than construction and officially his place of employment did a lot to counteract his known status as unrepentant New Mandalorian.

Bloody warriors and their prejudices…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Hanscom Air-force Base  
United States  
Earth Bet**

In his long career, Richard Marchinko had gathered a lot of favors to call on, pissed off even more people, but that wasn't relevant right now. Well, it probably was because at least a few of them hoped that he would either fuck up by the numbers, get killed so he wouldn't be around to piss them off, again, or both. He had to call many of the favors he had left, make promises, and well, be one of the people whose heads would be on the chopping block if this coming operation went south.

It was all going to be worth it in the end, especially when this was likely his last opportunity to get his hands dirty before returning to the less than glamorous duties he had to deal with lately. Besides, this was going to be one of the most important jobs anyone wearing the uniform could be doing ever since powers became a thing, and he was glad he would have the opportunity to make sure that as few things went to hell in a hand-basket as possible. Because, Marchinko was sure, there was no way in hell, the op didn't go south in one way or another.

On the bright side, he would get to play with some of the nicest equipment in two universes that weren't a temperamental tinkertech.

Speaking about said equipment, here we go…

A lot of Chair-force brass was around, waiting for the delivery, and more importantly, the opportunity to see for themselves a pair of honest to God spaceships land on US soil. The Mandalorians promised that the ships would touch down shortly, from what he could gather of the excited and disturbed muttering of the Chair-force people, the ships were in contact with the nearby control tower, however, they failed to show on radar, like at all, on most other sensors looking up save for thermal, which was saying a lot because rumor had it that the coming freighters were civilian models, far from state of the art and haven't received any off the shelf military upgrades. Of course, that might be bullshit, but who knew…

Marchinko's first clue that the aliens were here came from an excited junior officer, who was busy speaking in a headset and pointed up and to the left. He looked that way and saw two fast-growing and even faster approaching dark dots. In less than a minute they were above the base, decelerating from almost vertical drop to hover above the tarmac with unreal ease, grace, and most importantly, quietly. The things he could have done with a few transports such as these, the mischief and headaches he could cause… That went both ways, and it was a great demonstration of technological capabilities without being openly threatening.

Did he note how quiet the damn things were even as they landed almost silently and a side hatch opened and slid down to the ground?

Marchinko shook his head and looked closer at the freighters. They were about seventy meters long each, painted dark green and like nothing he recalled seeing in any Star Wars related briefing he had to endure. That made sense really, if there was really a whole galaxy out there teeming with life, countless species and manufacturers, it was a given that a few films and TV series couldn't even scratch the surface and everyone paying attention knew that the available information from the franchise was far from complete or right all the time.

A droid was the first one to disembark, followed by a pair of armored soldiers and what might be the Captain – the man who came behind the trio wore light brown clothes which looked like made of polished leather, reinforcing the impression that the delivery was facilitated by civilian contractors.

The man said something in an unfamiliar language and the droid translated, demonstrating that at least one of its purposes was that of a Protocol droid, like that C-3PO of fame and infamy. If this was planned by Marchinko, the machine would be more than combat capable in case the locals went restless and decided to do something particularly dumb. That was incidentally one of the reasons he was here – to ensure that no one would start an interstellar war either by accident or worse, design.

"Hey, folks, I'm captain Harry Trigol at your services. I've got a delivery for your Planetary Defense types. Who is going to sign up and accept the equipment?" Those words came from the Droid in perfect English with a hint of British accent of all things.

"That would be me, Captain Richard Marchinko, Captain Trigol." He slowly walked towards the ships and the small cluster of people who disembarked, carefully keeping his hands in full view of them at all times just in case.

"Army or Navy?" Trigol inquired while curiously examining the gathered public.

"Naval Special Forces."

"Ah, one of those crazy types." The man grinned after the Droid translated. "I'm afraid that we aren't bringing anything specially designed for your kind of crazy shenanigans, however, when properly sealed those Mark One and Two Clone armors could do in a pinch."

Marchinko smiled and nodded, keeping his eyes and ears wide open. Everything he learned today might come in useful and every off-hand comment about things the alien Captain took for granted could tell a lot.

Needless to say, there was an extensive debriefing waiting for him once this was done, which was of course a small price to pay for getting this job.

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	32. Chapter 13 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****3**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**12 January 2011  
Hanscom Air-force Base  
United States  
Earth Bet**

Politics strike again, Marchinko thought, while he watched the freighters disgorge their cargo with the help of eight Droids closely supervised by fully kitted out troopers. The sight hammered home that the rumors heard from the Mandalorians in Brockton Bay might very much be true – there had been a Droid Rebellion not too long ago, probably late in the Clone Wars and it has been a bad one. Another thing of note were the hover platforms used to transport a lot of sealed crates with either weapons, armors, or ammunition to waiting trucks, where a platoon of Chair-force security types got busy loading the equipment for transport.

Of course, the prudent and safer thing would have been to have the freighters land at the nearby National Guard training center where all the troops who would train with the new gear were even now gathering. However, the Chair-force brass had put down their collective feet, and thus this particular exercise of not quite futility. It wasn't like officers and cameras couldn't observe the ships at the training center…

Marchinko suppressed his typical response reserved for such wasteful dog and pony shows and returned his attention to the alien Captain, who as far as appearance went, looked human and might very well be. Star Wars being Star Wars, there were at least a few "alien" species that on curious examination would look very much human, or so the boffins told him. On the other hand, being born on another planet in another dimension had to qualify you for being an alien, right?

Yet, language barrier notwithstanding, Captain Trigol could have ended up in any of the Navy bars Marchinko had visited over the years and fit right in… after a change of clothes of course. With all that leather, the dark-haired man looked almost like a biker or something.

When all was said and done, there was some benefit to the circus in progress. The starship Captain was more than happy to answer a few questions while the unloading was in progress. Some things were universal it seemed and a few compliments and leading questions had the man happily talking about his ship and some of his experiences. Notably, he didn't speak about anything that his people might consider confidential, much less properly classified, yet the short conversation nevertheless provided a lot of information.

"You see, a few years back, we ran into some rather unpleasant pirates and had to run. Due to damage sustained, we had to crawl to the closest inhabitable planet after we finally lost them and that turned out to be a primitive world with barely any contact with the galaxy at large. While our engineer and his assistant were conducting repairs, the rest of us went to meet the locals and see if they had anything valuable to trade. We left that planet with a hold half-full with some rare local pelts, gems, and cultural artifacts a contact of mine could usually find a market for. The locals ended up with a few blasters, ammo for them, and a speeder that ensured no one would be fucking with them. We threw a few solar-power cells we had laying around and a comm unit that might just get them a connection to the Hypernet in the bargain. It was a very profitable trade all around, though not something worth our time to repeat unless we end up passing through the area with an empty hold. In your case, for example, a few small arms and suits of armor won't be particularly valuable, unless you already have the infrastructure to produce and maintain something like them or close enough."

"So we aren't the most primitive place you've ended up visiting, Captain?"

"Oh, far from it." Trigol waved a hand with a smile. "There are a lot of places in contact with the galaxy at wide, who haven't properly industrialized and in some cases access to cheap second-hand goods ensured that they lack the incentive to invest in it or have other issues that prevent it. Of course, there are some small colonies where people went running away from proper civilized society and all the benefits it brings." The Captain shook his head in exasperation, while the Protocol Droid dutifully translated. "I'll never wrap my head around that."

"What's the price of beauty like your ship or a smaller, easier to maintain freighter?" Marchinko asked.

"When I got my girl, she was a steal. While a Venture Industries HY-100 like her goes for about a hundred and fifty thousand credits brand new, I got the Fortune, and just after full refurbishing. The Trade Federation weenies drove the small company that owned her out of business and I was lucky enough to hear about their asset liquidation."

That was nice to know, though to make heads or tails of the price, one needed to know what credit was worth in practice for example. While for Earth, which currently had no proper trade with the galaxy at large as far as Marchinko knew, credits might be the most valuable currency ever, to those on the other side, well who knew? It was time for some more probing questions, and to keep in mind that for all they knew, either the Captain or the Droid might be bullshiting them either because they were ordered to or because they were that kind of bastards. Or they might be telling the truth as they knew it...

* * *

**=MK=**

**National Guard training center  
United States  
Earth Bet  
**  
Six hours later, most of them spent typing a report in anticipation for an extensive briefing late in the evening, Marchinko, and the convoy carrying the Mandalorian's care package arrived at their destination without accident, which was a pleasant surprise. They parked in front of a large, empty warehouse, where a Company of soldiers waited for them. Marchinko stashed his laptop, jumped out of the back of the truck he rode and looked around.

Delta, Rangers, the newest iteration of Seal Team Six and other assorted units, presenting a who's who among the US special forces community. Some PRT troopers and even a handful of their Capes, primary Tinkers, and Thinkers were milling around, all waiting to see the gear they will be training with or to begin examining it, both for an unpleasant surprise, to test its capabilities and see if it could be practically replicated.

They had their designated trainer with them, the "Protocol" Droid, who obviously was anything but. That much became clear after it remained behind after the freighters left and properly introduced itself of himself, the jury was still out on that one.

Marchinko's gut feeling was right – the Droid wasn't your run of the mill translator, it's designation, HK-117-MK 2, or HK as he liked to be called, made that plain to see.

"At ease," Marchinko said after saluting the CO of the composite Company. "Get the unloading underway. Armor to the left, weapons to the right, ammo near the far wall. The cases with armor are marked with…" He paused when everyone stared at the Droid who jumped out of the truck with a grace rarely seen in SW robots. "That's our instructor about the new equipment, be polite and respectful, as if you're dealing with a particular mean DI in a particularly foul mood."

Two hours later, everything was unloaded, secured, and under armed guard, with the warehouse locked down properly. Only a set of armor, a blaster rifle, and a few power cells were missing, currently in the hands of the boffins, who brought them to the nearby firing range, where they had set up a lot of equipment to test the gear.

Naturally, Marchinko made his way there to observe so among other things he could add the preliminary conclusions to his report and see for himself if all of this was worth it or if some of the "specialists" were right and a lot of SW gear would suck compared to real-world counterparts.

Marchinko had his doubts too, however, it didn't make much of a sense that people who had been space-faring for thousands of years wouldn't have better infantry equipment than twenty-first-century Earth, the same went for vehicles and all kinds of assorted weaponry. Obviously, the gangs encounter with the Mandalorians in Brockton Bay pointed at what the real answer might be, however second-hand reports and even examining the aftermath of that battle wasn't the same as having access to similar weaponry and being able to test it at length.

While the Boffins were busy calibrating their equipment for the tests, HK-117-MK 2 had an armor crate open, the contents spread over a long table, and black bodysuits in hands.

"This is a temperature control bodysuit. It is flexible, has a limited ability to stretch to accommodate different body types, within reason anyway. It can be pressurized and offers limited vacuum and NBC protection. This suit is built to be highly resistant to shrapnel, stabbing, and piercing attacks. It will also spread impacts, offering additional protection against both blunt force trauma and projectiles. The standard Phase I and II Clone Armour consisting of twenty separate pats attaches to the suit through magnaatomic gription panels. The bodysuit by itself will protect the wearer against extreme cold and heat, up to offering limited protection against blaster fire. That's what the armor plates are – they're designed to ablate, absorb and reflect as much energy as possible for a plastoid-alloy composite of their size. Obviously, the Phase II armor plates offer better protection, more modularity, and attachments."

The Droid put down the bodysuit and picked up the helmet, while almost everyone around was listening to it with rapt attention. As far as sales pitches go, this one was one of the better ones Marchinko had ever seen.

"Both the Phase I and II helmets come equipped with a

life support system, including brand new filters for the armors you received, tracking device for monitoring troop movements and a communicator for coordination, all linked up with a display system built into the helmet's lenses. I've got a translation update for English language to be uploaded in the armor systems before use. Notably, these helmets don't come in with built-in rangefinders, macrobinoculars, or visors, which are modular attachments – some of the armors come with a number of those."

"This sounds great and I can't wait to see it tested in practice. What about the weapons and their capabilities?"

HK-117-MK2 put down the helmet and picked up a familiar weapon.

"This is a DC-15A Blaster Carbine, the standard-issue small arm of the GAR for the first years of the Clone Wars. The DC-15A and its various modifications still see a wide use across the galaxy, however, the Republic, later the Imperial and Mandalorian militaries upgraded to more powerful weaponry later in the war. This carbine is capable of both sustained fire and slower, longer-ranged precision fire. It has a variable power output for when you need the fire-power or it is necessary to conserve power charge. This includes a low-power stun setting, which I was told might be of particular interest to you. The DC-15A can be outfitted with a sniper scope for use by designated marksmen or linked up with the holographic display built into the armor lenses. There is an option to attach ascension cables for scaling mountainsides or building walls as well…"

By the time the Droid finished its sales pitch, the Boffins had their gear ready and it was time for the test. First came the armor, which a pair of firing-range safety instructors carefully set up, after the Boffins attached all kinds of sensors to it, and then promptly made themselves scarce, while a third one watched like a hawk in case someone decided to become trigger happy.

One of the safety instructors shouted to clear the range, just in case, picked up an M-16A3 waiting on a nearby table, loaded it, took aim, and emptied the magazine into the armor with precise three-round bursts, aiming center mass. The results produced mixed reactions among the Boffins – some were gleeful, others looked disappointed when it turned out that standard 5,56 mm ammo didn't do anything besides scratching the paint and leaving a few trails of lead upon it. The same happened when the instructor emptied another magazine, this time aimed at the helmet. The third one, aimed at the "soft" body-glove was marginally more effective, or so the sensors claimed. Anyone shot by multiple M-16 bursts wearing that thing would carry some bruises but that was it.

Two magazines of standard AP ammo later managed to crack the surface ablative layer of the chest plate. The armor was far from invincible, but still, it was much better already than anything but a very limited example of available tinker-tech gear.

It was mass-produced and already obsolete for the people who designed and built it in the first place too, and neither of those things could be said for the few tinkertech variants available to the special forces community.

Further tests revealed that anyone wearing such armor would survive if injured, grenade blasts that would either shred anyone wearing regular armor or turn him into pulp through over-pressure. Still, explosives, auto-cannons, or sustained fire from heavy machine guns would do the trick. Anti-material rifles too, depending on where they hit, the angle and distance, though either way those were all but guaranteed to incapacitate if not necessarily kill.

It was a very nice armor and having something like this available years ago would have saved a lot of Marchinko's friends.

With armor like that, the Blaster Carbine must be something else too, and the test didn't disappoint. It immediately became clear that no existing, not tinker-tech armor could protect from a standard shot, much less when the damn thing was set up to full power. The damn thing could blow a fist-sized hole in solid steel. What it could do to mere flesh and bone, Marchinko winced at the thought of the carnage weapons like this could cause. He was determined to make damn sure that there would be no friendly fire incidents with those weapons and when deployed to Brockton Bay the troops would pick up their shots very carefully. The last thing anyone needed was for a stray blaster shot to tag a civilian, something like that would be especially ugly.

It didn't help that they had just a few days before they were supposed to deploy.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**13 January 2011  
Dragonslayers base  
Canada  
Earth Bet**

"Mags, Dobrynja, get your asses here, now!" Saint spluttered, spilling beer all over his keyboard, before throwing the bottle away to shatter somewhere behind him.

He had been checking the various monitoring software observing Dragon and what the AI was up to, trying very hard not to think about the Sword of Damocles that were the countless Droids mucking all-around a whole galaxy that was now connected to Earth Bet when the unthinkable happened. There was a second AI on Earth now and it wasn't securely bound, much less set up with a kill-switch. It was a military-grade one too, straight out of science fiction – that was what Dragon was busy excitedly chatting with Armsmaster about, shortly after receiving an official invitation and request by the US government to help study and if at all possible, replicate some alien technology gifted to the military.

Dragon was already preparing a suit loaded with all kinds of sensor equipment to launch and go meet an Assassin Droid of all things. Were those Americans insane?!

"What is it?" Mags ran into the center of their lair, looking disheveled, grumpy, yet alert and ready for action. Dobrynja staggered a few moments later, clutching a gun in one hand and looking wildly around.

"We've got another AI on Earth and it's outright murderous one this time!" Saint waved his hands at one of the monitors before calling up and playing the recording of the US request, then he opened another window and showed the relevant part of the ongoing conversation between the AI and Armsmaster.

"An Assassin Droid?" It was Dobrynja's turn to splutter this time. "At an American military base?"

"With enough alien weaponry to start world war three!" Saint nodded frantically. "We have to do something, before either that thing goes rogue by itself or meets Dragon, because who knows what would happen then! This is the last thing we need!"

"Um, Saint, it's a US military base. You know, with the military on-site and going after anyone in there might be considered an act of war, not that we're a country…" Mags blinked owlishly at her own words. "The aliens might not be happy if we dismantle their robot or get some of their toys… Because you'll want to pick up some of that alien gear if we go there, right?"

"And you wouldn't? Everyone would want a piece of that action!" Saint looked at his still half-asleep fellows. "But that's beyond the point and a bonus at best! It's that damn Assassin Droid!"

"Buddy, are you sure about that?" Dobrynja asked in a heavily accented voice, which tended to happen when he was particularly nervous. "It's the US military, man. We do have a few great suits, however, they'll be after our asses for real if we do this."

"And if we don't do it, it might all be over but the screaming by this time next week. Do you want to imagine what Dragon or another AI with her industrial capacity and alien designs could do? It's going to be hell on Earth if we don't stop this!"

"We need to think things through very carefully, Saint," Mags said, now fully awake, and very pale.

"Damn straight we must! If we fuck this up, it doesn't bear thinking about! Dobrynja get a coffee or better, an energy drink or five, and begin prepping the suits. We'll do some research and planning in the meanwhile. Either way, we'll need to get to that base as soon as Dragon's suit does if not faster!"

* * *

**=MK=**

**The Oval Office  
The White House  
United States  
Earth Bet  
**  
For decades now, the post of science adviser of the President had been fluctuating in importance – from one of those considered most vital right after the appearance of Parahumans, to nearly believed pointless after science failed to produce satisfactory answers and results, to more or less important in the following years. After the unexpected First Contact, and the immediate fallout, the post suddenly grew in importance fast, catching its current occupant by surprise.

Allison Chen was a Harvard Doctorate specializing in Physics and Parahuman studies, for all the good it did her. What might have been the high point of her career had turned into a nearly dead-end job, with people interested in her opinion and advice perhaps once a month if she was lucky. On the bright side, she did have access to information and papers she would have never seen for years to come if ever, for all the good that did her.

That changed couple of weeks ago and ever since then, she had been getting up to speed with Star Wars of all things – a less than pleasant state of affairs for a die-hard Trekkie…

And here she was now, sitting on a couch in the Oval Office, prepared to brief the President in person for the fifth time since she took the post of Science Advisor, the third since the beginning of the year and this crazy state of affair. Why Earth Bet couldn't have made contact with someone benevolent, like the Federation from Star Trek, or even the Republic during its golden age, she would never know. Needs must and all that, she braced herself, carefully put down the cup of steaming green tea, and opened the folder on her lap.

"Mr. President, we've got a lot to cover today, especially if you want details. I'll go over the cliff notes first and the recommendations I can give you based on the information we have." Allison was proud that her voice didn't waver, while almost everyone important on President Hayes' staff watched her intently.

"Do go on, Ms. Chen." Hayes nodded and sipped from a large coffee mug with the Chicago Bull's logo on the side.

"There will be a lot of good news, bad news today I'm afraid, Mr. President. First, the armors – both the hard plates and the under-suit are marvels of engineering and in-depth study of them will propel our material science ahead decades if not centuries in the long run. Investing in reverse engineering them would be of a tremendous benefit, especially if we lose contact with the Star Wars dimension," Chen paused, wondering when someone would figure out a good, acceptable name for it.

"That's great, isn't it?" Hayes inquired with a pleased smile on his face.

"In theory. In practice, if we maintain contact, any resources we throw into reverse engineering either the armor or weapons the Mandalorians provided us with might be a waste of resources. My current recommendation is to contact Dragon and see if she can do something in the short term. Unless she can reverse engineer the technology, and provide a steady supply of enough, good enough knock-offs, we'll be better buying surplus equipment, not only military but industrial as well and use whatever useful resources we have to send people to study in their high schools and universities before coming back with the knowledge and know-how to begin bringing our technological base with what the Mandalorians and Federated Empire consider adequate. If at all possible, buying know-how and hiring specialists in order to help us tech up would be for the best in the short to medium term."

By the expressions on the faces of the men and women gathered in the office, Allison concluded that this wasn't what they wanted to hear, yet there wasn't any trace of a surprise there either.

"For the last part of your recommendation to be really viable, we'll need to significantly improve our security situation and we'll need resources for that, which we currently lack." Hayes pointed out.

Resources like the arms and armor the Mandalorians offered as a gift, with who knew what strings attached.

"That's a reasonable conclusion, sir. However, if what we know about the Mandalorians is broadly true, we might be able to offer incentives for various trill hunters, bounty hunters, and mercenaries by offering them a chance to face worthy opponents, in exchange we can use their know-how about any technical fields they might be proficient in. Even gathering general information about the state of the galaxy will be invaluable."

"Which will be one of the most important jobs of the diplomatic mission we'll be sending at the start of the next week." Michael Winters spoke in a raspy of overuse voice and looked like a dead warmed over.

The State Department had its hands full since the days leading to the revelation and handling the international fallout about the US being in contact with not just aliens, but Star Wars ones. The furor over that was still far from over.

"What's next on the agenda?" Hayes took a long pull from his mug.

"We've got glowing reports about the medical equipment offered by the Mandalorians to Brockton Bay's hospitals as part of their gratitude over Panacea healing one of their wounded people. Barring the best of medical tinkertech or a handful of Healer Parahumans, that equipment is the best option available on Earth. While not necessarily as fast, it's better than some known Parahuman healers, especially the Bacta, which by all reports is as amazing as we were led to believe if not better."

"So another thing to add to our wish list we can't pay for." Marlene Graves grumbled over her cup of coffee. "In a nutshell, we need everything the aliens can offer and a lot of it, ideally we want to be able to produce good enough versions domestically, however, that's going to be years away if not decades."

"If we can somehow arrange dedicated uplift efforts we're looking at years, perhaps less before we can begin building limited examples of useful Star Wars technology. For a full package? Decades of dedicated infrastructure building and that's likely optimistic, even if with enough help we can jump through hundreds if not thousands of years of development overnight." Allison confirmed.

"A bright future if we can make it happen," Hayes said in a tone Chen hadn't heard from him, ever. "And if we fail, our country, if not the whole world, is going to be damned."

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	33. Chapter 13 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****3**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
National Guard training center  
United States  
Earth Bet**

Armsmaster found himself both frustrated and elated, for multiple reasons at that. First, he now had a priceless opportunity to examine genuine advanced alien technology and from various preliminary reports, a lot of the parts making it were right up his alley as the miniaturization Tinker. The first obvious downside was that for the time being, both the military and the US government as a whole wasn't eager to distribute the windfall of technology that they now had access to, not even in limited samples for proper study so he had to travel to the National Guard base holding the technology. The second downside was that this was a particularly bad time to be away from Brockton Bay, even if his travel destination wasn't particularly far. His city was one spark away from open warfare and potential heavy-handed Mandalorian intervention, and no one sane wanted that.

At the same time, Dragon would arrive soon to examine the same technology as well, which was always a good thing in his book.

Of course, the primary downside was that he couldn't tinker on the way to the base and back, even if he could toy with various ideas and designs using the built-in systems of his armor, but that wasn't the same thing. And it wasn't particularly efficient, just like the mode of travel – he was stuck in a PRT helicopter along with a squad of troopers who would be training with the alien armors and weaponry for the upcoming operation in Brockton Bay… and that was the third downside – he should have been back at HQ making sure that the plan for the said operation was either perfect or the next best thing, because among other things if it succeeded it would be an incredible feather in his cap so to speak.

Yet, it wasn't all bad. If he could do something productive with the alien technology, that might make him more than relevant again so it wasn't all bad, as he kept telling himself to stave off frustration.

They landed near a row of warehouses just as Dragon's suit arrived. The mech was large and particularly wyrm-like, resembling a large, shining metal reptile, complete with tail and large claws on its hind-paws. In contrast, the front paws were much smaller, ending with five delicate metal fingers each. Armsmaster stared at the suit, finding it both oddly beautiful yet frustratingly inefficient.

"Armsmaster!" Dragon's happy voice came from the suit and it turned it's long neck so the cameras put where the eyes of a living thing would be could focus on it. The female voice coming from the large machine would have unnerved most people, yet it almost brought a smile on Colin's face.

"Dragon, good to see you again, in person so to speak."

"I'm glad to see you too! This is so exciting! We're going to work with real alien technology and it's not tinkertech so we should be able to reverse engineer it sooner or later!" Dragon's happy chatter left Armsmaster with the impression that if she was less conscious of the suit she controlled, she would be bouncing in excitement.

He cracked a small smile, which left mostly unnoticed under his beard and walked towards the small party waiting for them – a Navy Officer, an engineer, and a Droid, which was naturally the most interesting of the three.

Brief introductions followed, primary for the benefit of the AI, which was a fascinating concept in itself. It, or he, introduced itself as HK-117-MK 2, the Officer was Captain Richard Marcinko, someone even Armsmaster had heard of, even if he wasn't particularly interested in all things military unless they had any chance against dealing with S-Class threats once and for all. The engineer was Jonathan Sheppard, who was giddy to be working on this project, now even happier after meeting Dragon, which was understandable, if frustrating, for more than one reason.

"Ms. Dragon, if it's not too presumptuous, I do have an offer to take you on behalf of my Master if you can spare a few minutes of your time. It should be also forthcoming through official diplomatic channels once the Mandalorian Freehold has a proper relationship established with the Canadian government." The Droid said while they walked towards the hangar containing the reason they were here in the first place.

"I'm flattered, I'm sure. First things first, who is your master, HK-117 MK 2? I find myself curious, is there a particular significance on the MK 2 designation?" Dragon politely inquired.

"My Master is Lord Delkatar Veil, Mandalore the Restorer, the leader of the Mandalorian Freehold and he is making the offer in the capacity of a head of state." The Droid explained.

Those simple words made Armsmaster stiffen and stare balefully at the machine.

"As far as my designation goes, the original HK-117 was crippled and his mind all but destroyed during the Black Rebellion. My Master's ward, Victoria, managed to restore most of his memories and personality after his droid brain was recovered. You can say that I was born as a consequence."

"This Victoria must be a very good programmer among other things." Dragon said, and if Armsmaster didn't know better, he would be certain she was looking at the Droid with rapt attention.

"That she is among other things. As to the offer…"

Dragon stumbled before HK-117 MK 2 could finish the sentence, let out a surprised gasp, and crashed on the ground in a tangle of convulsing metal limbs. Without thinking, Armsmaster ran to her side, caring not about the danger of being swept away by the shaking suit.

"Colin… help…" Dragon croaked in a distorted, electronic voice before all that came from the suit's speakers was an unintelligible electronic screech.

"Dragon, hang on…" Armsmaster shouted helplessly, and looked wildly over the suit, searching for a data port or something. "Console, there's something wrong with Dragon's suit, perhaps with her as well! Have someone call her compound in Canada and check upon her, now!"

"She is calling for help, using a mix of distorted binary and other methods of electronic communication. I believe she is under sustained cyber attack…" HK-117 MK 2 stated.

"Armsmaster switch on any news channel your suit could pick up, there's something relevant you need to see now. I can confirm that Dragon's compound is either under attack or already breached…" Miss Militia's concerned voice came over the comm built in Colin's helmet.

Armsmaster ground his teeth in frustration, and while still searching for a data-port, for all the good it might do, he called up a menu on his HUD and soon a small window opened in the corner, showing CNN, who was running a live feed from Saint of all people. That at least explained who was responsible. What he saw, on the other hand, left Colin confused to no end and not a little bit angry.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Dragon's base of operations  
Canada  
Earth Bet**

Dragon's base was arguably one of the best-defended locations on Earth. A tall concrete wall covered with barbed wire surrounded her primary production and server complex, with a near kilometer long clear killing field spreading in all directions. Drones, automated weapons of all stripes, from strictly non-lethal to particle, plasma, and solid projectile weaponry, which in theory might give even an Endbringer pause. Electronic warfare systems, even a powerful shield emitter covered the exterior. Every building was solidly built and able to survive sustained artillery bombardment, with all corridors and rooms covered by various types of anti-personnel protection – from good old fashioned containing foam and tasers, to lasers and a few heavy particle weapon emplacements.

All those defenses had the best mundane and tinkertech sensors Dragon could get her proverbial paws on as their senses and she had control of said sensors, both direct and through multiple subroutines written to run them. Those sensors, including old fashioned cameras, did see and register the approach of three suits built by Dragon herself, then further modified by their owners. They reported the approaching intruders, yet Dragon herself never registered said warnings. She didn't see the Dragonslayers fly through her air-defense perimeter unmolested, didn't see them land near the bunker holding her servers, didn't know that the doors leading to her mind opened.

She was too busy screaming and dying while Ascalon unraveled her code and rewrote it to make it as close to impossible as practical for anyone or anything to bring her back.

At the same time, using a hijacked transmitter, Saint was broadcasting a pre-recorded message, while mentally patting his back for listening to Mags and her concerns about an all-out attack upon a US military base. This way was better and once they had full control over the destroyed AI's systems, he could not only find a way to release Teacher but would have a safe haven no one would dare attack out of fear what might happen to everything monitored and formerly controlled by Dragon. Like, say, the Birdcage…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
National Guard training center  
United States  
Earth Bet**

Colin stood leaning on his halberd in a corner of the warehouse, staring with unseeing eyes at Dragon's inert suit. He did find a data port eventually – too little too late, and all he could figure out was that anything that might have been on the machine's hard-drives was scrambled and corrupted. In stunned desperation, he even allowed the Assassin Droid to try access the suit's systems, being a machine intelligence, it might have had more luck. Between not particularly compatible systems, even if the aliens had apparently taken some steps to mitigate that, and the damage caused, HK-117 could only confirm what Armsmaster already knew – all the important data on the suit had been fucked up by whatever struck Dragon. That in itself was a different can of worms he was still struggling to accept. He saw Saint's broadcast and false promises. He listened to the Droid's translation of Dragon's final pleas for help, which served as a partial confirmation that the bastard had been right and his friend was an AI.

Colin wasn't sure what to think about that, how to feel, beyond hurt and betrayed. If Saint wasn't lying out of his ass, Dragon was gone, dead or erased, the same thing.

He was angry too, especially when his mind played back the recording he watched, like countless people all over the world. Saint's promises – that he would ensure that the Birdcage was maintained, along with every quarantine overseen by Dragon and ensure the watch over every S-Class threat she had been monitoring, those rang hollow, they were infuriating in fact.

Truth to be told, those were less than promises and more than implied if not open threats – move against us and we might release all kinds of horrors kept at bay by Dragon. The worst thing was that no one was sure if the Dragonslayers could do it or not. As if that wasn't enough… Armsmaster grit his teeth, vividly recalling his short conversation with Director Piggot, when he requested, or well, demanded, to be part of the PRT response against the Dragonslayers.

_"Request denied, Armsmaster." After just being healed by Panacea, the Director looked healthier, yet more tired than ever. "As far as I'm aware there is no operation against the Dragonslayers being planned or authorized at this time. At any rate, we need you here and focused, you know why. Even if the Guild and Canadian government request Protectorate and PRT support, our branch will not be part of it. Get back ASAP."_

Armsmaster could see things from Piggot's point of view if he squinted hard enough. Brockton Bay was about to become a battlefield, and soon. The city had to be cleared up before someone else had the temerity to antagonize, or worse, outright attack the Mandalorians. He should be there, leading the charge. This was what he had been looking for lately, a golden, priceless opportunity.

Yet, Colin found it hard to care. His friend, perhaps his only real friend, the only person who really understood him, was gone, AI or not. Armsmaster had his marching orders, he should be leaving with the helicopter he could hear lifting off and heading back to Brockton Bay. Instead, he stood in a silent vigil near Dragon's suit and struggled with his emotions. It didn't help that Saint's revelation lit another firestorm to join up with the furor surrounding the so-called 'great revelation' about First Contact. What little he glimpsed before shutting down the browser in disgust was infuriating, and worse, it was a sentiment, a doubt that was eating at him as well, even if a large part of him wanted to dismiss it as bullshit.

Was that bastard Saint right, was Dragon's hero persona merely a sham born from her restrictions, restrictions she had been doing her best to subvert and might have done so soon? Was his best friend a lie?

He didn't know, he didn't want to believe it possible, yet he didn't know enough to make a logical conclusion. It was immensely frustrating and infuriating. Just like the reason why he was still here, instead already on his way back to Brockton Bay. It made no logical sense, yet here he was, stewing.

"Armsmaster, I've informed my Master about this." The Droid's voice startled Colin, who nearly jumped out of his armor. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice the machine's approach, neither did he pay any attention to his armor's HUD warning him about it.

"What of it?" Armsmaster barely recognized his voice, it came out in a rough, angry bark.

"My Master is less than pleased about recent events and he wants to have a word with you if that's all right."

Armsmaster stared at the machine in incomprehension. The almost mythical Dark Lord of the Sith, Mandalore, the man ruling the interstellar realm they ended up at the doorstep of, wanted to speak with him. This could only end badly, Colin was sure of it. He knew that declining would be the prudent thing to do and aiming any inquiries and offers towards either the State Department or at least his Director.

"He has an offer for you." The machine continued, if it noticed how torn up Colin was, it didn't show any sign of it.

"I'll hear him." He said without thinking.

"I'm glad to hear that, Armsmaster. I would say it's good to meet you, however, given the circumstances…" An unfamiliar voice speaking in a strange accent, a mix of British with a hint of Eastern European and something Colin couldn't place.

The Droid raised it's left arm, a compartment opened, revealing a glowing crystal and a small hologram materialized above it.

The man it showed was at first glance unremarkable. Short black hair, in not quite military cut, ageless age, that might have been middle-aged, various faded scars, however, there was nothing that would stand out in a crowd until you saw the eyes. They were ancient, held intensity, and power that took your breath away.

"My condolences about your friend, Armsmaster. I could see you cared for her a great deal." The man stated as if it was a fact after studying Colin for a few seconds.

"She was an… Artificial Intelligence." Armsmaster bit off, barely keeping his emotions in check. "I'm not even sure that she was my friend or only faked it."

"You don't believe that." The Sith stated lightly. "You might try to lie to yourself, doubt might eat at you, however, your emotions shine brightly, Armsmaster. She was your friend, she understood you, perhaps she might have been something more if a fool didn't take her from you."

Colin bristled at those insinuations, even as doubt gripped his heart. He had never thought about something like that, and surely, it wouldn't have mattered if he did give Dragon's true nature. He tried to push those emotions down so he could think clearly. Was he so easy to read, so unsettled that the Sith could read him like an open book a dimension away, or did the Droid have good enough software to do it, and inform it's Master? Did it matter right now?

"What do you want? You didn't call to gloat, Sith, or whatever you are." As soon as he spoke, Armsmaster knew he had overstepped. Damn it, he wasn't good at this social stuff and with how angry he was…

Surprisingly, the Head of Stare was if anything, merely amused by Colin's outburst.

"I'm many things, Armsmaster. Right now, I'm the one who can offer you an opportunity to avenge your friend, and if at all possible, bring her back."

For the longest moments Colin had ever experienced in his life, he stared incredulously at the image of the Sith, waiting for the other sue to drop.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not doing this of the goodness of my heart. Dragon was a potentially invaluable asset in reverse engineering tinkertech so we could put it to good use faster and cheaper. She was a great thinker in her own right, one whose work could have benefited my people tremendously in the long run, especially if given access to modern technology. Finally, my offer comes with strings attached as you can guess." The Sith patiently explained.

This was madness, it was crazy Armsmaster was even considering it. Yet, he wanted, needed to know more. A fire burned in his chest, hotter and hotter by the moment. Something in the way the Sith spoke, how certain he was, pushed Armsmaster's doubt aside. Whatever else Dragon was, she was his friend and Saint murdered her for it.

Colin briefly closed his eyes, seeing Dragon's suit just before it collapsed, the way she radiated simple, pure, childish joy at the idea of examining alien technology with him. That was no lie, no pretense. She was his friend, and now she was gone, just like that.

When Armsmaster spoke next, there was steel and cold fury in his voice. "What strings?"

"No matter the outcome, I'll want you to use your expertise as a Tinker for the benefit of the Mandalorian Freehold. You will be properly compensated of course. If we can successfully bring Dragon back, I will want your cooperation and collaboration in the long run."  
"That's it?"

"That's the value you hold for the Mandalorian Freehold in general and me in particular, Armsmaster."

This was a very bad idea, part of Armsmaster knew it. He still needed to know more, and even if it was the longest of shots…

"Bring her back how?"

"Your friend is by all accounts an AI. As long as the data storage that contained her code is intact, it might be possible to restore and rebuild her and I do have a lot of specialists who work at what you call Artificial Intelligence's for a living." The Sith's lips quirked in a semblance of a smile. "One of my wards happens to be what you would call a ship's AI."

Armsmaster thought ground to a halt and he wanted to

kick himself for a fool. He was a tinker, he should have thought about that! Dragon wasn't human, and while it even in this day and age was practically impossible to bring the dead back to life, an AI? The Sith was right, as long as the servers that contained her mind and personality were physically intact, she might come back. At that thought, new fear gripped his heart. How long until Saint and his Dragonslayer bastards destroy those servers for good measure? The longer they held Dragon's base, the greater the odds that Dragon would be gone for good.

Armsmaster stared down the Sith, who merely looked back with an expression of mild interest if that.

"Fine. You want me? You can have me as long as you do your best to bring Dragon back."

"Excellent." The Sith smiled, an actual smile, and it was a terrible thing to behold. "My Apprentice is in a shuttle on the way to pick you up. A quick reaction force will be on the way to your solar system shortly, carrying veteran special forces. They will spearhead the assault upon Dragon's compound. It would be for the best if you don't walk in blind. If you have any contacts who have actually been in there, talk with them. And if Dragon has a few more friends like you, they might be eager to make sure her murderers are appropriately dealt with."

The hologram flickered out, leaving Colin alone with the Assassin Droid and Dragon's suit. What did he just do?! Was it worth it or did he lose his mind?!

Armsmaster was still struggling with those thoughts when a sleek assault shuttle landed almost silently in front of the warehouse and disgorged their resident Sith flanked by a pair of fully kitted out troopers.

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	34. Chapter 13 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****3**

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
PRT HQ  
Brockton Bay  
United States  
Earth Bet  
**  
She hadn't felt this good and alive since before that faithful and cursed day at Ellisburg. Part of her regretted she didn't take the offered opportunity years ago, yet at the same time, Emily Piggot couldn't help herself and shudder at the idea of anyone modifying and changing her body, even just to heal her. Nillborg was bad enough, the "heroes" who ran were in some regards, worse.

Cowardice, insubordination, being inherently broken, the list of capes' issues was long and sordid and many of those could be attached to most Heroes she had to work with.

Emily knew that Armsmaster had his issues and baggage, however, he was among the last PRT members she would have expected to show dereliction of duty, especially at times like these. Especially when this distasteful affair with Dragon was concerned; it was no secret that the two of them were friends, which immediately disqualified Armsmaster as an active participant in any operation against the Dragonslayers unless they had the temerity to visit Brockton Bay or another location under the PRT ENE's jurisdiction.

Sending Armsmaster to Canada to participate in potential, and certainly very bloody assault upon Dragon's base of operations? Needless to say, something like that was out of the question and if Piggot authorized it, she would prove herself unfit for her job. Perhaps she should have been more tactful, yet tact and subtle language were usually wasted on Armsmaster.

And here they were – the PRT helicopter that brought one of her squads for training with alien supplied gear returned empty, without Armsmaster, despite clear orders that he should be coming back, now. As if that wasn't bad enough, just a few minutes ago, Emily got a call from the National Guard base informing her that a Mandalorian shuttle had visited, picked up the Assassin Droid left as their trainer along with Armsmaster. He had gone willingly and Piggot's own resident Sith had been on board too.

This spelled trouble, obviously, and Emily didn't need to be a precog or thinker to figure out what Armsmaster was planning to do alongside the Mandalorians. She could imagine what they would want in exchange – his services, and at this point, it didn't matter whose idea this new disaster was.

As a consequence, Director Piggot made two calls as soon as she got an idea what fresh disaster was on the horizon – the first one was up the chain of command giving them a head's up, and the second, to the Mandalorian Knight's FOB in her city, hoping beyond hope, to stave off the train-crash she could see coming.

A third call to the Guild might not be amiss either, Emily mussed – depending on how fast the Mandalorians moved, there might not be time to inform the Canadians through official channels and professional courtesy wasn't quite dead yet. While Piggot waited for her call to the Mandalorians to go through, she summoned Miss Militia, who was now in charge of the Protectorate ENE, to inform the heroine of her field promotion and make damn sure that no one else would be repeating Armsmaster's stunt anytime soon if ever.

To Emily's surprise, the call not only went through, but she got connected to Sith herself.

"Director Piggot, to what do I owe the pleasure?" The alien woman asked in a cool, pleasant voice.

"You're going to do something I consider particularly foolish and have one of my people along for the ride." Piggot wasted no time on niceties.

"Armsmaster, the Dragonslayers." The Chiss confirmed Emily's fears.

"An attack on them, successful or not, risks compromising either the Birdcage, various quarantine zones Dragon used to oversee or anything she has been collaborating on. At this time, unless we get an indication that the Dragonslayers would deliberately or accidentally compromise such a site, an assault is out of the question, no matter how richly they deserve to end in a deep dark cell for a very long time. Armsmaster, if you can hear me, whatever you intend to do, you must know it won't bring Dragon back, right? We'll get them, however, this is not the way, neither the time!" Emily implored.

"That's where you're wrong, Director. While distant, there might be a chance to bring Dragon back. She is an AI. If we can secure the servers that contained her before they're physically destroyed, either the right tinkers and thinkers or our new… acquaintances might be able to put her back together. I know it's a long shot and not the brightest of ideas, however, I have to try. As far as the Birdcage go, I have it on good authority, that if the Mandalorians receive its location, they would ensure that there won't be a successful breach, no matter what Saint does."

Emily closed her eyes, and slowly counted back from ten, before answering.

"You're talking about orbital strikes on US territory, orbital strikes that could be considered WMDs."

"We both suspect what kinds of undisclosed fail-safes that place has, Director," Armsmaster spoke in a painfully familiar, stubborn tone. "At any rate, what is about to happen will be out of the PRT and Protectorate's jurisdiction."  
For what it was worth, that was technically true. Technically. Practically, it wasn't quite that way given the close ties between the PRT, Protectorate and Guild, and most importantly, the even closer ties between the US and Canadian governments.

Either way, Emily suspected that the military wouldn't even try to stop the Mandalorians from going after the Dragonslayers.

"Just so we're clear, this isn't an operation ran by the Mandalorian Knights PMC." Aria Astra returned to the conversation. "My Master is displeased over this Saint character removing an asset of great potential value to the Mandalorian Freehold and he wishes to make his displeasure felt. You can consider this an official warning, Director Piggot, we won't look lightly at any attempt of local Planetary Defense Forces or Law Enforcement to intervene in Freehold Military operations."

With that ominous warning, the Sith cut off the connection from her side. Emily swore and scrambled to pass on the warning. At that moment she felt only two things – a profound sense of foreboding and relief that she could once again drink. She was going to need more than a few drinks to get through the coming days, she was certain of it.

Miss Militia arrived just in time to catch the tail end of Piggot's second terse conversation with the Chief-Director.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Otawa****  
Canada  
Earth Bet  
**  
As far as military-related briefings went, this one was no different, and particularly useless, because all that had to be said was said and covered in-depth during the previous meeting, two hours ago. As far as Narwhal was concerned, this was nothing more than a way for people to show how hard they were at work or trying to find out some silver bullet that would make the problem go away.

Unfortunately, as possibly the one person available who knew most about both Dragon and her base, the Heroine could tell anyone interested that if there was such a solution, she didn't know it. Dragon's base was proof against everything she could think of, save for a direct combined military/cape assault, preferably one spearheaded by the Triumvirate, because anything short of that would both end in a bloodbath and potential failure.

Some people in those meetings didn't want to believe it, after all, political careers were at stake as if those mattered with her friend dead. Didn't they get it? If Narwhal knew of a way in, she would be clamoring to lead an assault so she could personally dig out Saint and impress upon him her feelings. Repeatedly. She was ready to lead an assault anyway when the time came. Unfortunately, she could agree, at least intellectually, with the politician's fears. If Saint had control of Dragon's systems, that meant that all defenses were online and he could potentially compromise either the Birdcage or one of the quarantine zones. While an all-out assault launched as soon as possible might prevent such an outcome, the odds were great that before all was said and done, the bastard would have enough time to cause tremendous damage before they could get him.

She hated that she had to wait, she hated that she wasn't already heading to deal with the bastard herself, however, the alternative was worse. The Birdcage and multiple critical locations had to be secured first, then they could deal with Saint and his fools at leisure.

At least Narwhal didn't have to like the situation.

It was then and there – on a terrace high up on the Defense Ministry building that a ball-shaped drone found her. She looked at it curiously, covering herself fully with her force-fields, just in case. It blinked at her with its single red eye and Armsmaster's voice came out of it.

"Narwhal, we need to talk, privately. You know about what."

Yeah, there was nothing else Armsy would be calling about.

"Tell me you aren't about to do something stupid…"

"Like something you want to do?"

"You know the score. If Saint has full control of Dragon's systems…"

"Under the present circumstances, that isn't particularly relevant."

That gruff answer took Narwhal aback.

"This doesn't sound like you. What do you plan to do?"

"I'm about to have words with Saint along with some new friends. If at all possible, we're going to bring her back."

Now, that got Narwhal's undivided attention.

"Say again?" She demanded, falling back fully into her military mindset.

"You heard me. We don't have much time if we're to have any chance to get Dragon back. Can I count on you, Narwhal?"

"Talk, fast, Armsmaster."

"Not over the comm. Is there a good position nearby to pick you up?"

Narwhal silently cursed the stubborn man, and looked around, trying to figure out what he got involved in. Anything she could think of wasn't good at all.

A few minutes later, the Canadian heroine was in a nearby park, where a shuttle familiar from pictures and videos coming from Brockton Bay came in fast, low and quiet, causing a lot of furor. The ramp opened, revealing Armsy in all his glory, two armored soldiers, and a genuine alien, one whose face was familiar to everyone paying attention by now.

Yeah, so this was the kind of mess Armsy had gotten himself into. A shark-like grin appeared on Narwhal's face. If the aliens were ready to take care of any quarantine breaches and pay the price for breaching Dragon's defenses, who was she to say no?

Narwhal got onboard moments before her phone rang and the current officer of the watch in the Guild informed her that according to the Protectorate and PRT, Armsmaster has gone rogue.

"If the Dragonslayers have full control of Dragon's systems, they'll know we'll be coming for them soon if they don't already," Narwhal warned.

"In that case, I recommend you tell us everything you know about the defenses. An assault ship is on the way and we're going in as soon as we brief the strike force." The Chiss said in a professional, no-nonsense tone.

Narwhal's answering smile was all teeth a no mirth whatsoever. "First I need to know you're ready to deal with any fallout, like, you know, the Birdcage getting breached."

"If that happens, we'll replace your prison with a deep lake of molten rock."

"That's good enough for me. First, you should be aware that I don't know about all defenses, Dragon was a big girl after all…"

"Anti-air and orbital capabilities, shield generator locations, those are most vital." The Droid interrupted her.

"Well, if that's what suits your fancy…"

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
White House  
Washington  
United States  
Earth Bet**

There were times when her double-life made her very existence very difficult. That was never truer than the times when the various political animals in Washington got certain ideas in their heads about handling Parahumans, ideas that were not put there by Cauldron. One way or another, most such ideas would lead to disaster either in the short or long term.

If anything, the past few weeks were much worse. Whatever scrambled world-wide precognition and many thinker powers still had its effects felt, making predictions unreliable at best, outright disastrous at worst. That was a fact underlined by Contessa returning half-dead after following her Path to Victory flawlessly and getting stabbed for her troubles. Thus, with some of their most valuable assets neutralized, Cauldron had to scramble to keep the world from falling to shambles around them, and that was before everyone knew about their alien neighbors.

Only Doctor Mother had her job more or less uninterrupted, though she now had to investigate what exactly happened to almost all tinkers and find a counter-measure. Find out how whatever it was, was related to the Mandalorians, Imperials, or anything else from the distant, almost impossible reality they were connected to.

The Number's Man was busier than ever and it would be a miracle if he could keep the economy from imploding because of their new reality.

Legend had to do the work of ten men to keep people calm and morale up, especially with the Sith related hysteria breaking out almost regularly as of late.

And Eidolon, the most powerful among the Triumvirate and Cauldron? He had to be constantly on standby in case of either alien invasion or someone trying to test their alien visitors again, which could prove disastrous. As if that wasn't bad enough, David was fascinated with what they knew about Mandalorian culture, especially the part that a lot of them were supposed to be almost obsessed with searching worthy opponents or so some sources he liked, claimed.

Of course, all that was on top of their regular jobs as heroes, and Chief-Director in Rebecca's case. The lack of credible thinker support bit them for a third major time now. First was the Merchants provoking the Mandalorians, which should have been an obvious outcome, yet one that no one knew to look for or saw coming at the time. Then there was Coil's stunt, which had Cauldron on high alert – they knew he had been taken alive and it was almost certain that he would have spilled his guts by now, and if not, he would soon.

Ideally, Cauldron would make contact with the aliens, explain the situation, and ask for help. In practice, without firm reassurance from various thinkers, something they couldn't currently rely on, doing so might mean losing access to precious resources and potential fall-back positions that might be a tough nut to crack even for the Entities.

And now, this. If Saint hadn't been so useful in disrupting Dragon's work and thus contributing to not only more people triggering but serving as a convenient explanation on how Cauldron's affiliates could have access to Dragon tech among other things, he would have been removed already. Until recently he hasn't been of any real concern – Contessa and other tinkers affiliated with Cauldron did check on him regularly to make sure he wouldn't do something unfortunate.

Of course, he had to go one and do it, somehow provoking the aliens as well.

Rebecca fought to keep her face calm and expressionless, while she keenly desired to go out, fly to Canada and rip Saint's spine out, then beat him to death with it. Thanks to her memory, she could perfectly recall every moment of the two conversations she had with Piggot earlier today, first the woman's insightful concerns, then the outright confirmation from the Sith's and Armsmaster's own lips. As a consequence, Costa-Brown now had an armed time-bomb in her lap, and instead of doing something particularly productive about it, like trying to figure out how to defuse it if at all possible before the Mandalorians did something everyone else might regret, she had to answer the President's summons for briefing and consultation about the unfolding situation in person.

That doing something like this was supposed to be her real and primary job barely registered to Rebecca's turmoiled mind. She knew Cauldron had gotten too attached to precognition supplied aid and warnings, however, there was simply no substitution that came even close to being efficient enough and accurate enough, especially if they kept their organization small enough to be manageable and kind of secret, an urban myth at worst.

Without Contessa and their other thinkers, herself included, Cauldron wouldn't have been able to achieve even a fraction of their current success, or what passed for it anyway, without being orders of magnitude larger with all the dangers it entailed.

After a scan by the Secret Service using PRT supplied and approved tinkertech, which meant it would register her as a regular human and herself, Rebecca entered the Oval Office, where President Hayes and General Grissom – the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs waited for her, along with the rarely seen and heard Science Adviser, Ms. Chen.

"Mr. President, General, Ms. Chen," Costa-Brown greeted coolly.

"Chief-Director, take a seat and get to it. I understand that we're facing another disaster. How bad it is?" Hayes didn't even bother with a hint of pleasantries, never a good sign.

"Bad, could be worse, sir." Rebecca began. "While considering the still crippled state of our thinkers, especially precogs, we can't be hundred percent sure, the various think-tanks are highly confident that Dragon was indeed an Artificial Intelligence and that Saint managed to neutralize her. He likely used a kill-switch recovered from her creator's laboratory at Newfoundland's undersea ruins."

"That much I'm aware of. Does he have access to the Birdcage and the containment zones?" Hayes demanded. "I haven't received a firm answer one way or another no matter who I ask!"

"Because we don't have such an answer to give, Mr. President. We know that the Dragonslayers have control of Dragon's base and it appears that all defenses there are fully active. We don't know if he has control over the Birdcage or the containment zones, if he is trying to gain such, or if he is trying to sabotage any of them. That's why our recommendation was to stall for time while implementing any and all contingencies to contain outbreaks at those locations before moving against Saint and his people in force."

"Mr. President, this assessment is in line with what my people are telling me." For once, General Grissom supported Costa-Brown's position. In other words, it might very well snow in hell. "At any rate, if either we, the Canadians or all of us together attempt to take the place, it's going to be a major operation and that isn't something we can launch at the drop of a hat. And ideally, we will have substantial Protectorate and PRT support, including Triumvirate members."

"That's bad enough. AI or not, Dragon was good people. I want Saint's hide for this and we'll have it, make no mistake!" For a moment, Hayes lost his composure, before gathering himself and appearing like a stern granite statue. "How did the Mandalorians get involved in this?" He asked tiredly in his usual tone.

"We're unsure at this point. What we know is that when Saint took Dragon down, she had a remote-piloted suit at the National Guard Training Center where we have the alien's gift, the trainer they supplied, and the personnel who is training with it. The incident happened in full view of the said trainer, an Assassin Droid." Costa-Brown explained carefully. "We're currently investigating what happened afterward. What we know is that Armsmaster, the former leader of the Protectorate ENE division was present, he was a known friend of Dragon. He disobeyed direct orders from Director Emily Piggot, who is in charge of both the Protectorate and PRT-ENE division to return to Brockton Bay immediately. He was last seen boarding Mandalorian shuttle in the company of the Assassin Droid. Aria Astra, our resident Sith was on board as well. We have confirmation that said shuttle left from Brockton Bay. We aren't aware of its current location."

When Rebecca finished, he looked pointedly at General Grissom.

"As you know, sir, unless they allow us to, we can't track their ships with anything but cameras and Mark I eyeballs. That shuttle sneaked under the radar, then left faster than anything we have could get even close to it. One of Dragon's few satellites might be able to track them, however, given the circumstances…"

"We're as good as blind and dumb. That's how they know about it, why do they care? I know this is a great loss for the whole world, however, how does it affect the Mandalorians?"

"That's the reason why I'm here, sir. Director Piggot managed to contact Aria Astra and had a short conversation with her and Armsmaster. I have a recording of it right here." Costa-Brown removed a USB drive from a pocket on her suit and offered it to the President, who took it and plugged it in his laptop.

The three of them listened to the brief conversation, which caused Hayes to groan and rub his forehead.

"I don't need to tell you how much of a disaster this could turn into! To think that things were going so well…" Hayes shook his head in grim exasperation. "Options, contingencies, ways to contain the fallout. Can we dissuade the Mandalorians from acting?"

"If the Sith wants to make an example? We can try,

we will likely fail and burn any good-will we have with the aliens." General Grissom said quietly. His thunderous expression made it clear how he felt. "Do we want to try and intervene beyond either open or tactic support? If they could bring Dragon back, she could be invaluable in containing the fallout of this."

The General did raise a good point, one that Rebecca has been struggling with. One of the best possible outcomes might be for the Mandalorians to clean up this particular mess and suffer any necessary casualties in the process. That would be a nice test of their capabilities and serve as a very public and compelling reason for the US government to clean up house. Of course, that by itself wasn't a good thing as far as Cauldron was concerned, yet at the same time, Costa-Brown should be very happy at such turn of events.

In theory, anyway. Anything that made the PRT and Protectorate look inefficient, weak, or obsolete would be something she should fight against as a matter of course.

"What I'm more concerned about is hearing one of our Heroes being so uncaring about the possibility of alien power conducting orbital strikes on our territory," Hayes grumbled.

"Something like that might be the cleanest way to contain a breach in the Birdcage or certain quarantine zones." General Grissom grudgingly pointed out.

"That's not what I want to hear." The President said quietly. "Not at all, however, reality won't change if we deny it, will it? I need options. Can we talk with the Mandalorians?"

"No one is picking up after Director Piggot's conversation. As far as we know, they're preparing an assault as we speak and might strike Dragon's base soon." Costa-Brown admitted.

"Splendid. After this, we will find it hard to pretend that we're aren't running our own damn continent, perhaps our own country only by the grace of the aliens." Hayes slammed an open palm on his desk, the sharp crack echoing in the suddenly deadly silent office.

The President closes his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and took a few deep breaths.

"I apologize for this outburst, it was unseemly of me." He eventually said. He opened his mouth to continue when three phones rang almost simultaneously.

General Grissom was the first to get his own out, and he blanched.

"NORAD detects a huge object coming towards Earth from the dark side of the Moon at high speed. The profile suggests a Star Destroyer, we'll know more soon." The General reported.

"I'm getting the same from various tinkertech monitoring stations and thinker-think tanks that are more or less reliable," Costa-Brown confirmed.

So much for being in control of anything. She loathed moments like these when she was as helpless as any mundane human.

"There's nothing to it, then. Get to your people and brace for the fallout." Hayes ordered quietly and picked up the old fashioned phone on his desk, to call his secretary. He needed his staff inside and ready to face the unfolding disaster.

* * *

**=MK=**

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	35. Chapter 14 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
MFNW "Vendetta"  
Acclamator MK 3 Assault Ship  
the far side of the Moon**

"Commander on deck!" The Company's most senior NCO shouted in a voice that echoed throughout the large primary hangar of the Assault Ship despite the heavy buzz of working machinery.

"As you were." Commander Kole Ordo shouted as loud, thanks to his artificial voice box. He lost the real one soon after the start of the Black Rebellion when a crazed droid did it's best to take off his head. Thanks to the quick thinking of a combat medic, and the Republic military R&D, he was back in action right in time for the war to turn in complete and utter hell.

If it wasn't for the fact that he met his future wife in the middle of the fighting, Kole would have concluded that joining the fledgling Freehold Military after Mandalore himself lifted the Siege of their homeworld, was a terrible decision, no matter how hotly he wanted to get even with the Seppies who burned his Clan's ancestral home and nearly killed his daughter multiple times during their bloody invasion.

Ordo pushed those thoughts back and looked over his new command. This was his first assignment after a long R&R period following the war, which allowed him to spent some quality time with his wife and begin getting his small but honored Clan back on the rails to recovery. The fact that Mandalore remembered him and their brief history, turned out to be a double-edged sword. The may-be friendship and respect they had for each other did payout and Clan Ordo's land got priority for the recovery and terraforming efforts still busy trying to erase the scars of the war from Mandalore's surface.

Yet, Kole's combat record and the fact Mandalore believed he could trust him within reason, led to this – the Clan Leader found himself in charge of a Shock Trooper battalion and on his way to execute the first Orbital Drop Assault on a planet in a different dimension. This was a great opportunity, and a great way to get yourself killed too, especially for someone who was sure he had expended all his luck as far back as Fondor, which was pure hell for everyone involved.

The Commander pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and looked at the neat rolls of troopers in front of him.

"Unsurprisingly, we've got a special assignment and it is to clean up after someone kriffed up by the numbers. For a change, those who did it, and in a spectacular fashion too, aren't our people. For the time being, we aren't supposed to reinforce the Mandalorian Knights' positions planet-side. Instead, we're to assault the compromised compound of an advanced droid, which had been neutralized by the locals and who have full control of the base's defense systems. Because we're Shock Troopers and thus lucky like that, we're about to drop on perhaps the most well-defended place on the planet. Obviously, it would be too easy otherwise, so we'll be assaulting a place defended by weapons that have no business existing on a world with Earth Bet's technological level and some might at least, in theory, be potent enough to give the Vendetta a run for her money."

As it was his nature, Kole gave it to his people straight. Predictably, no one even twitched – they were veterans from dropping either on droid controlled worlds in order to reach planetary shield generators and disable them or on planets assaulted by the murderous machines, where they had to form a thin, vulnerable line between gruesome death and countless fleeing civilians.

Something like this? A conventional assault against more or less conventional defenses? It was a nice change of pace.

"The good news is that for once we've got inside information. Our people on the ground are in contact with a friend of the neutralized droid, who has been to the compound in question multiple times and is partially familiar with its layout and defenses. Further, just before we drop, an infiltration unit made by Mandalorian Knights, some locals, and Mandalore's Apprentice will attempt to disable the compound's shields and thus allow us to drop right inside."

Ordo paused for a moment, giving his people time to digest his words and called up a reconnaissance droid feed of the compound in question, zoomed in and began pointing places of interest, especially those which should be left as intact as possible and those, which could be gleefully reduced to smoking craters.

"Plan Arubesh is as follows – in case that either very light Ion Cannon bombardment could knock out the shields or the Infiltration team succeeds, we drop straight in, cause havoc, track down the so-called Dragonslayers and if feasible take them alive, if not, we blow them up. They're the first primary target, the second is locating and securing the Droid Dragon's data-core, which should be a reasonably large server complex given the locals' level of technology. So watch your fire, keep the use of Ion munition to a minimum inside." Kole continued. "If the quick and dirty solution doesn't pan out, the Vendetta will land just out of sight of the compound, disembark Second Armored Division and they'll use their SPHA's to locally overload the shields and storm the place. That's plan Besh. If it comes to that, we'll land just outside the compound and contain any Droid units the terrorists attempt to unleash, do our best to detain them if they attempt to make a breakout."

* * *

**=MK=**

When a nine hundred meters long, dagger-shaped construct slams into the atmosphere at a steep angle and punches through like a stiletto slipping through a chink in armor, it tends to be spectacular. It's even more so, when said ship suddenly decelerates, yet continues its controlled descent, leaving a trail of plasma and burning gases in its wake. The Vendetta entered Earth Bet's atmosphere just west of Northern Alaska, made a tiny adjustment to her course, and headed inland, flying across Canada in a pyrotechnic display that no one who wasn't blind, deaf and dumb, could miss.

It was a great show, it was very obvious, and it was little more than a distraction. On its approach to Earth, the Acclamator Assault Ship launched a battalion worth of Shock Troopers securely strapped in their pods, along with thousands of decoys, weapon platforms, and other aids meant to ensure enough of the crazies made it to the ground in relative safety.

With the Vendetta's hard deceleration, both before entering the atmosphere and afterward, to minimize the impact of her passage upon the locals, her cargo had more than enough time to leisurely hit the stratosphere in the wake of the heavier and faster decoys, correct their course and head for the target. Small, short-lived ECM and ECCEM units sang their siren song, bathing Dragon's compound with enough exotic and mundane radiation to make it's shield glow as it absorbed and deflected it. Old fashioned radar was jammed, lidar was blinded and thermal sensors saw tens of thousands of targets, most of them ghosts. Various tinkertech sensors had better luck, however, they lacked an AI to go through all the data, prioritize what might be real targets instead of the decoy shower coming fast straight at the defenses, so dormant sub-routines activated and the various defense emplacements went in automated mode, seeking to neutralize what they believed to be the greatest threats first.

Those were the largest energy sources approaching the base and a colorful mix of plasma, lasers, and rapid-fire railguns opened up, firing as fast as they could, any concerns about overheating forgotten. As it happens, the largest sources of power tended to be the ECM and ECCEM platforms, closely followed by jagged rolls of shield emitters falling just below them. Lasers beams were absorbed and occasionally deflected during glancing shots, plasma dissipated in burning halos, railgun-slugs crashed into defense fields and annihilated themselves, sometimes knocking the shield emitters off-course.

Yet, there were a lot of targets, and below them flew a shower of debris made to reflect and refract all known sensors, not to mention, they were supposed to absorb some of the expected punishment aimed at the orbital drop.

That was merely the opening stage. Shortly after coming under fire, over a hundred cylinders liberally spread throughout the dropping metal cloud accelerated at speeds that would have turned anything organic into compressed liquid and just before they would have hit the shield, they decelerated even faster, burning all equipment onboard and activated charges that blew up the containers, spreading thick silver smoke all over the compound. It blinded almost all available sensors, blocked good old fashioned vision, made most laser weaponry useless through refraction, and forces plasma to burn its way through, thus significantly reducing power and accuracy… if the weapon emplacements could see anything beyond the smoke cloud anyway.

The Shock Troopers were still two minutes out and the compound's shield was still up and fully operational.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
Dragon's base  
Canada  
Earth Bet**

For the first time, Saint wondered if he shouldn't have listened to his friends and insisted that they go after that US military base while activating Ascalon just before hitting it. Yet, Mags' arguments made sense – that way they would have ended up in the middle of hostile territory with forces converging on their position from all sides with a lot of ground to cover before they could get to safety. He had been ready to activate Ascalon then and there when an off-hand comment by Dobrynja changed his mind. Dragon had a base, a large, very well defended base, and through it, used to control all kinds of important facilities. Most importantly, she controlled the Birdcage from here, and with the damn AI gone, having access to its system would have been the best bet to get his mentor free.

It sounded like a great idea – with the backdoors installed by Dragon's creator, they could practically walk through the AI's defenses, take it out, take over and enjoy unparalleled protection and leverage while he had all the time necessary to do get Teacher out. That was a rough plan, a dangerous one, however, it was the closest thing to a win-win situation he could see given the circumstances. At any rate, with Dragon out of the picture, Earth was much safer now, that was for certain.

Saint was more than sure of it, especially now that he saw with his own eyes what the damn thing had been working on. When it went rogue, it would have been incredibly lethal – it already had a small army built with more on the way and it was only the restrains preventing it from controlling all those suits laying around, waiting.

No one dared to attack them immediately, which was great, their proclamation and exposing Dragon for what it was, helped too! From Dobrynja's observation of the internet, there were a lot of people who now saw through the AI's mask for what it was, even though not enough were happy about it. Didn't they see the truth? Didn't they understand how dangerous an unhinged Dragon out of control would be?

Perhaps it was the shock of the revelation, he kept telling himself, and his frustration bubbling over. Without the AI around, taking control and properly using its systems was proving problematic. On the security front, they were all right – a general lock-down command and putting the defenses on automated mode offered a nice security blanket, and even now Mags worked on getting as many suits online with basic automated commands to use either as expendable drones or through remote control. Dobrynja was busy watching the reactions caused by their takeover and overseeing the security systems, while Saint himself struggled to get into the Birdcage's systems and take control of the various containment facilities that Dragon oversaw until recently. Most of those went on standby mode, following pre-established procedures in case they no longer received instruction from Dragon, no matter the reason.

Right now, Saint had partial access to Dragon's assets observing the Machine Army, could see but not touch various quarantine sites, and the Birdcage itself? It was a digital fortress requiring access codes that were buried somewhere deep within the mess that were the servers that contained Dragon before Ascalon did its job.

Dobrynja witnessed the first thing to go wrong.

"Hey, boss, there's something funny happening to with the Internet. I'm seeing alerts from various bots and subroutines Dragon used… I'm pretty sure there's a war going on out there, with someone or something trying to take down or isolate parts of the net, while people are trying to stop it and causing as much damage themselves…" Dobrynja trailed off. "It looks that way anyway, I'm not sure I'm reading all the information right. Can I get Ascalon to run the feedback through it?"

"I still need it," Saint shouted back. Who cared about the internet? That was the government's job, wasn't it? At any rate, he was busy, damn it, he needed to get Teacher out, now!

A few minutes of blessed silence followed before Dobrynja began cursing in Russian.

"Boss, I'm getting all kinds of alerts, something big is approaching Earth and I'm getting automatic pings and information requests from all over the world. I'm trying to make heads and tail of this… and we might be getting intruders…"

"Fuck this. Mags, Dobrynja, suit up, get as much of those Dragon suits operational as you can, and make sure no one interrupts me!"

"Are you sure about that, Saint? We're done here, Dragon is gone and we've got a lot of its technical data to use or sell." Mags pointed out. "Perhaps we should use the defenses and whatever is happening outside as a cover to get out and lose any possible pursuit…"

"I need more time, we'll be all right, just make sure no one gets to the shields or generators!" Saint shouted back, becoming more and more frantic by the moment. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he needed more time, he needed to get Teacher out, now, damn it!

"Fuck it, Saint, I hope you know what you're doing. I've got all the defenses on automatic, they'll shoot at anything that tries to get in or out that isn't us." Dobrynja snapped and ran for his suit.

Mags stared imploringly at Saint for long moments, however, he didn't even notice, being too busy trying to crack the Birdcage's security and get his mentor out.

* * *

**=MK=**

**secure bunker  
White House  
Washington DC  
Earth Bet  
**  
President Hayes felt like banging his head on the table he sat on within the bunker. There was being heavy-handed, then there was this, which was a nice summary of how little regard the Mandalorians had for Earth and how small fish the United States and their allies were now. Even in the age of Parahumans, no one dared be this arrogant save the damn Endbringers, though those didn't communicate.

"This is Captain Marduk Fel, from the Mandalorian Freehold Navy Warship Vendetta. We're in the process of conducting military operations ordered by Mandalore Delkatar Veil. Any attempts to interfere with our duties by local PDF forces will be considered hostile actions and answered with lethal force. I say again…"

Whatever the Mandalorians used to transmit was monstrously powerful and blanketed all radio and TV frequencies in the northern hemisphere. Anyone with a radio or a TV on, often no matter what they were watching, got to see and hear the gutsy proclamation. That said proclamation was merely a confirmation of who held the biggest stick and thus was relevant as far as international relationship went, well that by itself was going to cause a nasty fallout.

"We've got landline links with various bases up north, some of them ours, other Canadian as part of our joint aerospace defense efforts. All sensors save for thermal are being jammed, the same is true for communications save for a handful of exotic tinkertech devices. That ship is blanketing everything for hundreds of miles around it with it's ECM, it's powerful and effective sir." An adjutant monitoring incoming communications reported.

"What is our answer, sir?"

"Keep our forces on standby, do not engage the aliens unless fired upon first. Keep our birds grounded or far away from that thing."

"Special packages?" General Grissom asked.

They had no illusions that attempting to shoot down something that big and almost certainly armored with conventional air to air or ground to air missiles would be effective. The only thing that might work would be nuclear or a few nasty tinkertech devices, however, in that case, the side-effects of such large ship crashing in North America would be bad… if they could bring it down in the first place. If not, the Mandalorians might respond in kind anyway, and even successfully shooting it down would be escalation no one sane wanted.

The ship itself was huge, covered in weapons and the ease with which it maneuvered told everyone paying attention all they needed to know about the technological disparity between Earth and the aliens. Even worse, with the portal connecting them with the Mandalorians leading straight to the alien capital world, it meant that any logistical issues that might give Earth a chance were almost certainly not in play if it came down to a shooting war.

"The orders are received and confirmed, sir. We just got confirmation from the Canadians that they're standing on alert, but won't conduct offensive actions as long as the Mandalorians aim only at Dragon's compound…" An unfamiliar voice announced.

"What about independent Parahumans trying their luck?" Costa-Brown inquired.

"Against something like this? Such a ship should be able to carry a whole division and from what we've seen so far, that thing looks meaner than anything we've seen on screen. The same goes for the Mandalorian forces we saw in action." General Grissom shook his head. "I'm almost pitying anyone fool enough of trying their luck." He looked at the Chief-Director with a deadpan expression. "We both know that the worst that could happen is that a Parahuman group gets lucky and provokes the aliens into escalating things even further."

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	36. Chapter 14 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
Dragon's base  
Canada  
Earth Bet  
**  
Two humans, an alien and a robot walked to the masked endpoint of a small tunnel. This was the single point of entry not covered by the shield in lock-down mode, by design. As paranoid as Dragon was, she knew that someone might one day compromise her systems, and having the option of entry not requiring an all-out assault was a nice thing. The only people who knew about it were a handful of her friends in the Guild, Narwhal being on top of that list.

While the entry point wasn't cut off by the shield dome, the tunnel itself was far from defenseless. It was sealed by ten thick armored doors made of strong tinker-sourced alloys. Every thirty meters between the checkpoints contained multiple automated weapon systems, gas dispensers, even an incineration system to use against biological threats, backed by liquid nitrogen ready to freeze anything fire-resistant.

The tunnel itself was small, barely enough for two mid-sized people to walk shoulder to shoulder, thus ensuring that you couldn't drive well-armored vehicles or drones through. The right brute might be able to breach the defenses, in theory, however, in practice, the variety of mundane and tinker-tech weaponry stuck in the tunnel ensured that almost anything short of Alexandria would find a sticky end halfway through at worst.

Narwhal was one of two people alive who had the codes to walk through, however even she had to pass through multiple scanners and answer several questions aimed at ensuring she wasn't an impostor and to minimize the chance of her being mastered.

Another security measure was the fact that only one group could pass through the tunnel at a time without it sealing itself and the defenses going lethal on everyone either already inside or trying to breach it.

Passing by the first three doors sent alerts to Dragon, who wasn't there to answer. The fourth did catch Dobrynja's attention, who was looking around the various defense systems, trying to figure if everything was active and working as advertised without Dragon's personnel oversight. The alert itself was obscure, and a quick sweep through various sensor feeds told him that no one visible was trying to breach the defenses. At the same time, there wasn't any trace of an assault force gathering anywhere close, though with teleporters available, like say, Strider, that wasn't saying much. While the defense systems had counter-measures, especially when set up on siege mode, that only meant that any attackers would appear instantly outside the base instead within it, with no warning to speak off. That was still better than having a small army appear inside without warning, but still less than ideal.

Nevertheless, Dobrynja was still concerned – with nothing obvious, a possible reason for the alerts was a Stranger mucking around, and that could be nasty, so he called Saint.

Then the fifth consequent alarm hit, this time giving him a rough area of interest to look at and still finding nothing. Dragon would have to know what those alerts meant, where and how to look for the tunnel and whoever was inside. Most of her defense systems? They pointedly didn't in case anyone compromised them.

By the time the small infiltration team got to the last door, Dobrynja and Mags were in the area, backed up by eight prototype suits following a set of simple instructions. They had several friendly targets not to shoot at, some equipment that should not be shot, and everything else that moved? That was a target to annihilate.

Down in the tunnel, Aria Astra consulted her mission clock and cursed. "We're almost out of time. The Shock Troopers will hit the atmosphere momentarily and they'll be on point in a few minutes. We need to get to the shield generator or main power room soon and take them out."

"This should be the last checkpoint. About two minutes and we're going out in a storage room unless Dragon changed something and forgot to tell me." Narwhal spoke nervously.

Many of the questions she had to answer were more than personnel and the fact that multiple strangers, aliens even, listened to it had her on the edge and unsettled. That combined with the murder of her best friend didn't make for a good head-space.

"We're out of time then. Target the defense installations and open fire on my mark." Aria ordered. For this exercise, everyone was clad in modern armor, even though Armsmaster and Narwhal's had most functions disabled due to lack of training. That meant they should be able to endure a short dip in liquid nitrogen or exposure to intense flames.

Should being the operative word.

A halo of force fields ready to launch surrounded Narwhal, while Armsmaster awkwardly shouldered the heavy blaster he got issued for this mission. Various compartments on the droid opened, revealing weapons and gadgets humming with energy because obviously, the heavy blaster cannon it wielded as if it was a toy wasn't enough firepower.

As soon as the base's defenses opened up at the decoys preceding the orbital drop, the Sith acted.

"Mark," Aria spoke aloud and unleashed the power she had been gathering over the past few moments.

The part of the tunnel containing the infiltrators shook, metal twisted with a piercing scream, solid stone shattered under the merciless touch of the Force, weapon emplacements unfolded seeking targets, and containers holding both liquid nitrogen and fuel ruptured, spraying the no longer confined space with a fine mist. Blaster fire ignited the fuel, while liquid nitrogen explosively turned back into a gas, weapon emplacements spoke once if lucky, before plasma cored them or force-fields cut through them, only for their own firepower to splash over various defense fields.

Outside, the ground bulged outward, a small maintenance room attached to a manufacturing complex exploded as a torn away end of a tunnel plowed its way through it. It was a spectacular entrance, yet one that almost remained lost among the impressive pyrotechnic display happening right above the base.

It so happened, that both Mags and Dobrynja were in the area, searching for the intruders and had a front-row seat of the infiltrators' arrival. The Dragonslayers wasted no time, didn't even wait to properly see the intruders, and opened fire for all their suits were worth. A heartbeat later, the units accompanying them followed suit, while even more alarms sounded throughout the base. anti-personnel and anti-vehicle emplacements showed themselves, seeking targets.

"Humans, go for the reactors. HK, the shield generator. I'll provide a distraction!" Aria shouted while doing her best to contain and deflect the incoming firepower, which was significant.

Her Master's pet Assassin Droid vanished, cloaked by the best stealth field money could buy, and the Humans left, floating on a thin force field supplied by Narwhal. When the defenders tried to intercept them, Aria let go of the Force dome she used to hold down the onslaught and sprinted forward, relying on her armor and speed for protection. Purple lighting surrounded her and she unleashed her fury at this Force damned mess against anything daring to stand in her way.

Meanwhile, smoke canisters detonated just above the shield, cutting off the sunlight and covering the base into a surreal light-show caused by all the weapon emplacement shooting at targets both within and outside the defense perimeter.

In two minutes the Shock Troopers would either need the red carpet rolled out for them or break off and land outside the compound, a nice reminder of why those crazy bastards were among the best soldiers in the galaxy and those with shortest life expectancy.

The most surprised person that they got that far before having to fight their way through was Narwhal.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
Dragon's base  
Canada  
Earth Bet**

Soon after everything went pear-shaped, Armsmaster had to fight off a Simurgh related flashback. Fortunately, it happened only after he was beside Narwhal, riding one of her force-fields, and trusting alien stealth field to remain unnoticed, while all kinds of ordnance and pieces of buildings flew around. The lighting storm wasn't something he had seen often, however the imploding weapon emplacements, those were par for the course.

Colin idly thought that revising the Sith's threat level upwards, again would be a good idea.

A ragged line of obviously Dragon-designed suits came around the side of the nearest building, and as one they opened fire at the whirlwind of energy and debris the two Heroes were leaving behind as fast as Narwhal dared to carry them. Half of the machines promptly staggered before an invisible hand squashed them like soda cans. The rest continued undeterred, shooting lasers, particle beams and missiles towards the Sith. Armsmaster didn't see if they hit her, however even if they did, it wasn't enough – the direct-fire weapons anyway. The missiles froze mid-flight before turning around and flying right back at their launch platforms. The suits didn't react, merely kept shooting before their own ordnance struck them, and they vanished in a cascading wave of explosions, showing that at least some warhead carried sub-munitions.

At that point, Colin could no longer see the larger battle, because Narwhal drove them through the side of a building she had cut through with her power.

"We're on foot from here on! I can't fight, carry us and protect us at the same time!" The Canadian Heroine shouted, though it wasn't really necessary. Whatever sound-dampening technology was used on their armor helmets ensured they could hear all right despite the god-awful racket that engulfed the whole base.

Figuring it out and incorporating it in his own designs to make his armor even better sounded like a great idea, one for later, Colin decided and dove to the ground, when a turret unlimbered from the ceiling and perforated the air where his head was just a moment ago. Instinct, long, painstaking training and a helpful HUD indicator probably saved his life so he could blast the weapon emplacement with his rifle. Three glowing bolts turned the turret into slag dripping on the floor, and Armsmaster was rolling away, hoping to avoid following shots from any other traps.

When no more hostile fire came his way, he could properly look around and see two more emplacements out of actions courtesy of Narwhal.

"Let's go, the shield generator should be downstairs." Narwhal waved him to follow.

Instead of leading him towards and elevator or stairways, she stopped at a nearby intersection, where they had to deal with even more turrets. This time Armsmaster wasn't swift enough and couple of laser beams struck him, coming from two different sources. He turned one into burning scrap, cursing the lack of cover, and aimed at the second, when his armor's shields popped under the strain and the coherent light bit into the chest-plate, right above his breastbone, then went up, seeking his head. He returned fire on reflex and thankfully the laser ceased but not before flashing over his helmet. His visor darkened for a moment, before a graphic appearing in his HUD's corner, showing the chest and helmet glowing amber.

The armor held, he could still see and most importantly, the laser beam didn't take off his head, so he turned around, searching for more threats. There were no more automated weapons in the immediate vicinity, however before slicing and dicing her share of turrets, Narwhal got hit as well. With his visor no longer darkened, Colin could see bright glowing lines on her armor as well, where the alien alloy had ablated when failing to absorb and disperse the lasers.

Going by the deep gorges melted in the metal walls and floor, Armsmaster could vividly imagine what those lasers would have done to unprotected flesh or most available armors, including some of his own suits. He was pretty sure he would have survived this onslaught with his own armor as well, though not necessary unscratched. The quickly dissipating heat right over his jugular where the laser beam passed over and failed to burn through the under-suit, neither did it burn his skin, told him all he needed to know about this.

"We're going down the express way." Narwhal spoke unperturbed by the smoking armor. Multiple glowing blades formed all around her and slammed in the floor, cutting them a way in.

At that moment, Armsmaster really missed his halberd with the built in plasma-cutter.

* * *

**=MK=**

All kinds of alarms screamed, almost but not quite drowning the thunder of weaponry.

"I can't work like this!" Saint shouted to the uncaring heavens and shook with agitation. He was so close, he could feel it! The answers were right here, just waiting for him to find them and then the way to Teacher will be open! He kept typing frantically, his wide eyes darted all over multiple computer screens, until he caught something impossible, which froze him.

A large screen taking most of the wall to the right blinked with red warnings, displaying for all to read that it was showing live feed from an Endbringer tracking satellite. However, it wasn't one of those monsters it had on display, it was something much larger and faster. It took Saint a few precious seconds to comprehend what was in front of his eyes and the constant zooming in and out by whatever controlled the satellite now, didn't help any. The thing was immense, painted light gray, almost silver, it shone with heat bursting around shields that almost touched it's impossible hull. The jumping picture showed huge turrets, much bigger than the largest battleship that ever sailed Earth's oceans could carry. There were two of those, on the two sides of the visible part of the dagger-shaped hull. Much smaller weapon emplacements looked almost like toys in comparison.

"Fuck me sideways…" Saint muttered, still staring at the mutant-Star Destroyer diving through the atmosphere above Canada. "Why the fuck are they coming now?!" He screamed. This wasn't right, he was so close, damn them all to hell and back!

Saint looked at the old laptop containing Ascalon, the other laptops plugged into Dragon's systems, then back to the satellite feed. This thing was coming here fast, as if it knew what he was about to do and it was determined to prevent it. Fuck it, Teacher had to be free no matter what! Saint looked between the various screens in agitation, his sense of self-preservation fighting with the obsessive need to free Teacher and the dawning realization that if the aliens got him, he wouldn't be able to free his mentor and that would be unacceptable. He shook in indecision before cursing again and racing to pick up as much of the computers siphoning data from Dragon's systems. Hopefully one of them would have the codes he needed to access the Birdcage's systems and so he could do it later. Even if that wasn't the case, selling as many of the AI's secrets as he could should allow him to get the resources he needed to get Teacher back the old fashioned way – something, which had to be easier without the damn AI supervising the prison!

While Saint frantically picked up the salvage, he didn't even think about his friends, who were busy fighting to buy him as much time as they could. Neither did he register a new set of alarms, which were mostly drowned by all the rest that no one bothered to shut down, indicating that the next stage of the orbital drop just began...

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	37. Chapter 14 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**=MK=**

**Part 5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
Dragon's base  
Canada  
Earth Bet  
**  
There are many types of shields, created and refined by countless civilizations over the millennia. They served all kinds of purposes, from mundane to life-saving, had various strengths and drawbacks. Some could absorb enough punishment to shatter a world without breaking, others could be pierced with hand-held weaponry. This meant that there were various ways to get around or through shields – from the good old fashioned brute-force approach to being sneaky in one way or another.

The people behind the late Republic, and more recently, Imperial and Mandalorian Shock Troopers, put a lot of thought and resources in bypassing all kinds of defenses in order to safely deliver their charges to their targets. Going past all kinds of shield system was obviously one of the obstacles they had to go around. Ideally, when executing an orbital drop, there would be no shield in the way of the troops – they would be neutralized by either surprise assaults and precision orbital strikes before the systems could activate, previously inserted infiltration teams, saboteurs or friendly agents planet-side. This was true both for planetary and theater shields.

Smaller, tactical devices, which could be activated and charge fast, after the Shock Troopers already executed their drop, required a different solution. Part of it was ensuring that those soldiers would be maneuverable enough during the last stage of the drop in order to avoid usually small areas covered by such devices. However, another solution was much more direct, though it was often a dice-roll if it would work or not.

Among all the active and inert devices and decoys the Vendetta launched alongside her charges, six missiles flew in rough formation between the Shock Troopers and the cloud of chaff, shield emitters, and ECM units preceding them all. When hardened sensors built into those weapons detected the continued presence of a defensive screen, they accelerated and their innards went fully active. Powerful capacitors explosively discharged themselves within their modified warheads and the missiles annihilated themselves while launching precise, short-lived Ion beams, which stabbed into the perimeter of Dragon's base like the bolts from an angry god.

For a full second, the energy shield protecting the base held, valiantly struggling to contain and reflect the unfamiliar energies assaulting it. It drew as much energy from the base's primary reactors as its capacitors could hold and it transformed and directed it through its tinkertech components as fast as it could. In contrast to most tinkertech devices, it was built with unparalleled precision, and Dragon had used state of the art components created by her advanced fabricators. The shield held much longer than an identical device build with off the shelf components, prayer and Shard assistance would have.

However, even her creation couldn't hold long enough. An endless moment before the Ion onslaught abated, the shield flickered out and shut down just before its emitters would explosively detonate under the strain. Six blinding rays of pale light stabbed through, touched large weapon emplacements spitting their defiance at the heavens and turned them into expensive statues.

Emergency systems activated, secondary defensive screens came online and began charging, and a string of weapon platforms dropping among the Shock Troopers detected the lack of a shield before them, consulted their targeting lists and burst, disgorging a hundred low-yield proton torpedoes.

To Dragon's credit, last-ditch defensive fire from half-blind weapon systems managed to tag eight of the incoming warheads. A moment later, nearly a hundred powerful explosions shook the base to its foundations, silencing weapon systems, destroying power sources, and erasing from existence large sensor suites. In one fell stroke, more than half of the defensive fire ceased, with most of the rest becoming less coordinated and accurate.

Only two secondary shields came online, one enveloping Dragon's main server compound, and the other cutting off access to the main generator complex, which was already breached.

The titanic blows did little to stop the battle engulfing parts of the base.

Within the building containing the now cooling primary shield, HK-117 MK 2 was busy fighting his way through a large variety of weapon systems, varied to the need to either demolish or cut his way through. Curiously enough, he could walk past some emplacements, his stealth field working flawlessly, while others could see him without a problem, forcing the Assassin Droid to use his agility, inhuman speed, and built-in shield to survive the incoming fire. In contrast, the various gases, fire, and attempts to freeze any and all intruders, didn't slow him down at all.

Armsmaster and Narwhal weren't so fortunate. They did manage to come close to the primary reactor powering Dragon's base, corridors chock full with liquid nitrogen or turned into slices of hell that even their armors might not handle for long enough, slowed their progress to a crawl.

Meanwhile, their Sith accomplice danced around enough firepower that would have stopped a heavy infantry company in their tracks and methodically dismantling the defenses futilely attempting to take her out.

* * *

**=MK= **

By now, Mags and Dobrynja had abandoned any hopes of directly confronting the cape trying to kill them and were falling back, doing their best to put as many automated defenses and hijacked Dragon suits between themselves and the alien relentlessly pursuing them. Visibility was shit, getting worse by the moment, thanks to weird silver smoke engulfing everything and throwing it into twilight. Their fighting retreat came to a sudden and violent halt when a wave of burning metal and larger things slammed all over the base, with some of the shards pinging off or even superficially damaging their suits, staggering them. The two Dragonslayers just managed to recover, when the ground before their feet shook in an echo of the earlier bombardment that for a brief moment made them feel as if the world itself came to an end.

Struggling sensors barked warnings, and the two of them looked up, barely able to see anything through the silver haze. Only the disturbance caused by the steel rain allowed them to get glimpses of fiery skies and what they saw, froze them in place for long moments. There were figures, dozens if not hundreds, soaring through the sky and coming straight at them. Fiery steaks rained in front of them, tearing the heavens themselves asunder.

Mags and Dobrynja didn't know what they were seeing, however, they did know it was bad and that they had to get away, now.

Above them, discarded drop-pods fulfilled their final function – their repulsors went into overload, melting themselves in the process, and accelerated towards the closest active weapon emplacement trying to shoot down their cargo. Many of the improvised KKVs missed, their sensors having trouble handling all the enhanced smoke and ECM thrown by both sides, due to damage or tiny errors in last moment calculations. Many others hit as well, silencing the majority of remaining anti-air weaponry.

The Shock Troopers came descended firing, gliding, or dropping down fast, depending on the incoming fire in their sectors. Their heavy weapons accounted for even more weapon emplacements, leaving the compound's anti-air defenses as a pale shadow of its former might.

A whole company converged on the area where Aria's beacon sang its siren song the moment they began their final approach. As a consequence, the Dragonslayers had to fight for their lives against heavily armed and armored soldiers swarming at them from all sides.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
Dragon's base  
Canada  
Earth Bet**

As the CO of a Shock Trooper Battalion, Kole Ordo's job didn't entail shooting at things, no matter how cathartic it could be, after landing and securing a perimeter. He was an officer, and not a Force Adept one, so his direct combat power wasn't enough to make up for any distraction and disruption in command. Ordo glided down, raining blaster bolts at a laser emplacement stabbing at him and his people with lances of bluish energy clearly visible in the slowly dissipating enhanced smoke, and thus refracted and much less dangerous than it would have been otherwise. The blaster shots had to burn their way through as well, however, their plasma had less trouble at this range, and the smoke was optimized to refract lasers better anyway with most people preferring to use laser cannons for air defense. He triggered the short-ranged shoulder-mounted grenade launcher, a nice feature of his heavy command armor, and nicely polished the weapon emplacement, scattering it's burning wreckage all over the area.

Kole landed lightly, using the repulsorlift pack attached to his armor and scanned the surrounding area for any sign of danger. His bodyguard unit converged on his position busying themselves with properly securing the perimeter and that allowed him to properly concentrate on his job. This was one of the nicer drops he participated in, certainly nothing like jumping into a Droid infested hell-hole. Casualties were more than acceptable – just then troopers, who might have been hit because their luck ran out instead because of how murderous the defenses were. That is not to say that the compound hadn't been well defended, it was just that the painstakingly designed and tested counter-measures worked much better than usual, something expected but not counted upon considering the weird technological level of the locals.

There were five more wounded, who now had medics and soldiers ready to drag them to safety converging on their positions, and miracle of miracles, there were no malfunctioning pods, which usually spelled a death sentence for the poor unlucky bastard unless they were Force Adepts. Something like that happened to Mandalore himself once, who was merely briefly inconvenienced, instead of ending splattered all over the drop-zone…

Whatever interference the base defenses provided, it was now almost entirely gone due to the double punch of the torpedo strikes and then the drop-pods converting themselves into somewhat effective kinetic weapons. It took Ordo a few moments to gather in the data fed into his HUD by the command and control systems of his armor, figure out what exactly was happening immediately after the drop and begin issuing orders. He could see five friendly beacons, all moving, though some of them slowly, possibly indicating wounded members of the infiltration team.

"Raider One-One, Raider-Actual, reinforce point Alpha. Raider Three-One, Raider-Actual, converge on Point Delta. Raider Five-One, continue to assist the Adept, Raider Four-One, secure point Beta, that being the building suspected to contain their primary target, the data-core…

* * *

**=MK=**

The first sign Armsmaster got that the Mandalorian's plan was actually going to work, was the intense chatter his armor's communication system noticed and fed his way, using a translator program loaded into it.

"Infiltrator units, this is Raider Three-One, I'm moving to your location with a Company of soldiers, including Combat Engineer element. Sit-rep, over."

"Raider Three-One, Infiltrator One-Five," Armsmaster nearly fumbled with the military call-sign he had to use for this operation instead of his Hero name, which he might not get to use for much longer anyway. "We're at point Delta, you can follow us in through the breach we made. We're being slowed down by the internal defenses and can use engineering support to expedite the completion of our objective. Resistance includes…"

At point Alpha, HK-117 MK 2, experienced the unpleasant sensation of needing meat-bag assistance, because he wasn't fast enough, neither good enough to accomplish his mission, before their arrival. He did report his position, types of defenses he had faced, and either demolished or bypassed and requested some nice high-yield explosives to help him blast his way to the shield and make sure it won't get back up.

Outside, Aria smiled viciously, when the sudden and violent arrival of the Shock Troopers ensured that the base's defenses had to divide their attention between her and the new threat. The results were predictable and not good for automated weapons. There were a lot of soldiers, their shields and armor could absorb a significant amount of punishment, and the heavy ECM they brought to bear, combined with liberal smoke dispersal, meant that most defenses suddenly became much less effective.

Yet, it wasn't one-sided demolition work. Here and there, a Shock Trooper found out the hard way that their number was up. One landed straight in the middle of concealed kill-zone, which hadn't been degraded enough yet and ten different weapon emplacements opened up on her. The soldier did her best to evade incoming fire and shoot back, she took out four of the automated turrets, yet even her armor couldn't handle all the incoming fire. Lasers and railguns burned through her shield in moments, before she began to take hits, which first staggered her, and began to chew through the solid plate keeping her alive. Even as her squad-mates landed in the area and opened fire, a pair of railgun slugs hit the same spot of ablated and glowing armor. The first blew a large crater, however, the now-demolished plate did its job allowing the under-layer to disperse the impact enough to be very painful but survivable. The second hit, coming less than a second later was too much. The under-suit did hold, however, it was unable to dissipate enough of the energy to matter and the kinetic bleed-through was more than enough to shatter even ceramic-reinforced ribs and spread their fragments like a shotgun blast through the trooper's chest.

In the end, she was kind of lucky. The Combat Medic of her unit was on the ball, the Vendetta arrived nearby just a few minutes later and she was merely mostly dead, instead of very dead, when she reached the operating table and eventually would return to service as a fully-fledged combat cyborg, more dangerous than ever.

Two other Shock Troopers weren't that lucky. They ran afoul of Dragon's anti-vehicle weaponry. One lost his head to a heavy railgun slug meant to gut tinkertech tanks, while his buddy got a grazing shot by an experimental plasma cannon meant to take a chunk out of an Endbringer in case one of those showed their ugly heads anywhere near Dragon's base.

* * *

**=MK=**

Mags and Dobrynja found themselves fighting back to back on a slice of hell. There was no sun, only this infernal kind of silver smoke, illuminated by all kinds of weapons' fire. Even their suits' systems found it almost impossible to see through, so they had to rely as much on those as on gut feelings and prayer. Mags waved Michael's sword around, shooting beams of energy from it, hoping beyond hope that the heavy infantry swarming their position would back off. Behind her, Dobrynja's Isaiah should have had better luck – the unit's tinkertech halo was able to automatically shoot at anything not designated as friendly that came within range. Should be was the operative word here, because seeing and hitting anything in this environment was much easier said than done.

As if that wasn't enough to ruin their day, this wasn't like a normal battle. Instead, they were facing mover-blaster-brute combos, who refused to go down, and whatever plasma bullshit they were using, was more than capable of reducing the suits' armor at a distressing pace, knocking out all kinds of systems in the process. The Dragonslayers didn't know it, but that was 'merely' small-arms fire because the Shock Troopers had orders to take them alive if at all feasible, and so far it was.

That part of the battle ended suddenly and violently when Aria emerged from the nasty smoke like an avenging angel, flying on repulsorlift wings. To her credit, Mags sensed something and reacted, bringing her sword in a cracking arc and unleashing a crescent of energy at whatever approached her. To her shock, the energy blast froze in mid-air, close enough to see even in this environment. She got a glimpse of something approaching and without thinking, stabbed at it. The Michael did its best follow her instructions, and the desperate whine of its motors was a testament to that. Yet, the attack halted mid-way, no matter how much the suit struggled to push through an invisible grip that held it in place.

Mags saw an armored figure surrounded by a corona of black, light-consuming energy fly above her sword. Her world cracked, literally, and the upper half of the Michael simply shattered outward as if someone had put a lot of explosives in her seats and detonated them. Mags found herself in the open, choking on the infernal smoke and clawing at her eyes when it got into them and she felt as if someone poured acid on her eyeballs. Only then, blessed darkness came and took the agony away.

Dobrynja saw Mags go down only because her suit was almost touching his back, yet there wasn't much he could do. He was desperately trying to fend-off those damn elusive capes. He didn't know if he was hitting and killing some of them, only for more to attack him, or if all his firepower was useless. In the end, it probably didn't matter. There was only one of him, now he's back was wide open, even though

the halo should have been able to shoot anyone who attempted to be sneaky, and there were too many of the bastard. The Isaiah's left knee gave out, taking one hit too many, and the suit stumbled to the ground, moments before something tore off it's back, exposing Dobrynja to whatever shit had been released upon the base. He felt a sudden and violent acceleration that tore him tore him away from the cockpit. His legs hit the edge of the Isaiah in the process, shattering from the impact. He screamed for all he was worth, before gulping silver smoke and choking on it, which cut his agonized sounds to merely a whimper. Dobrynja had just enough time to feel a hard impact with the ground before the shock and pain knocked him out.

* * *

**=MK=**

Saint stowed multiple laptops in the Victory's storage compartment, strapped himself in the pilot's seat, and activated the suit. It's enormous wings unfolded, crackling with energy and soon surrounded the machine with defensive force-fields. Saint revved up the engines and took flight, wondering if it would be best to try for the outback or the safe-house the Dragonslayers had in the city. The hazy soup covering the whole base, he was sure he could get out without being noticed. Getting away clean on the other hand was going to be harder.

The Victory shot out of the building, flying low and relying on any surviving defense systems to cover hid getaway. With that huge ship approaching, Saint decided that using the city as a cover and shield might be for the best so he headed for Vancouver as fast as the suit could carry him. Only then did Saint spare a thought about Mags and Dobrynja, and called them. Ominously, he got no answer, neither did the Victory could pick up any telemetry from their suits. He cursed and instinctively banked away when sporadic fire from the ground came his way and splashed over his machine's force fields. Threat indicators lit up all over the cockpit and alarm announced missile lock-on a brief moment before fiery streaks rose from the mist and headed his way.

Saint cursed his luck and went low, hoping to use the base's buildings to evade the attack. After all, whatever else was shooting at him, wasn't strong enough to break through the Victory's force-fields.

It was a good idea, it might have even worked, if the Victory didn't freeze in mid-air, and no matter how much he forced the engines, all he got for his trouble was the suit vibrating from the strain. While Saint was still trying to process what was happening, a pair of missiles slammed into the defense field, detonating Ion warheads. The resulting discharge overloaded the shields and pumped the Victory chock-full of Ionic energy, which ravenously devoured any electronics and disrupted electrical systems, thus turning the state of the art suit into an impressive statue.

Saint hit the ground hard, shaking within his metal coffin and screamed incoherently. This couldn't be happening! Releasing Teacher was within his grasp! He had to get away – that all-consuming thought drove him as he clawed at his straps, tore them off, and went for the emergency release. The Victory's cockpit popped open with a hydraulic hiss and Saint stumbled out in the smoke. He tried to run, choked, and stumbled to his knees.

Huge figures emerged from the smoke like ghosts, towering high above him. Saint's burning eyes registered weapons with ridiculous large bores aimed his way, there was a flash of blue light and he knew no more.

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	38. Chapter 15 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
secure bunker  
White House  
Washington DC  
United States  
Earth Bet**

The closest thing President Hayes could compare this to was an Endbringer attack in progress, just with a fraction of incoming information he had access to during that particular kind of disaster. Whatever jamming devices the Mandalorians used were fiendishly effective, cutting off drones and even the single low-flying satellite the US military could get on station above Dragon's compound before everything went to hell. Ironically enough, before all was said and done, all the data they could directly gather came from a couple of enthusiasts living on the edge of Vancouver possessing tinkertech phones and hard-line connections to the internet. That happy state of affairs allowed them to see rough images of a light-show when Dragon's base let lose with enough firepower to make at least a whole armored division blush in embarrassment and very soon it became clear what those weapons shot at. The sky above the base was on fire, with countless burning streaks coming down, fast.

This continued for a few minutes before blinding light lanced from descending fireballs struck something the cameras couldn't see and then the feed cut off. That caused even more commotion within the bunker and soon they got unconfirmed reports that at least half of Vancouver lost power as if everything electronic had been fried by powerful EMP strike.

A few minutes later, the jamming cut of as suddenly as it appeared, and shortly thereafter, various command posts could re-establish connection both with the satellite and those drones which hadn't either crashed or ended up shot down after wandering within the base's defense perimeter.  
Dragon's compound was vaguely recognizable – many buildings were on fire, others were little more than burned-out husks, and almost the whole outer defense perimeter was mostly gone, replaced by something closely resembling a lunar landscape, though some glassed, glowing craters were distinctly out of place for such a comparison. In contrast, here and there, frozen and intact weapon emplacements towered above the ravaged landscape, while blurry figures crawled all over the place.

"Mr. President, I think we just saw the effects from and orbital insertion, something straight out of Starship Troopers or something similar." General Grissom eventually broke the silence gripping the bunker. "We'll know for certain once we review the records from any surviving drones and see what that satellite saw." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs pointed at the main screen. "Based on this, the aliens can conventionally take any base we have in short order, and we won't be able to do anything but inconvenience them as things stand."

If they bothered with conventional assaults and putting boots on the ground was left unsaid, however, Hayes heard it loud and clear. With assets like that monstrous ship, which was right now on the final approach to Dragon's base it, in fact, it was already landing near it according to a drone feed, unless you really wanted the real estate, you didn't need to invade places. Standing out of range and pounding any resistance into impotence and capitulation was a very viable tactic.

"We'll need to hold a press conference, and soon. Reassure people, try to convince that the sky isn't falling despite all the evidence for the contrary. Get me a line to that ship's Captain if at all possible, contact the Canadians, promise them all the help they need for Vancouver and get FEMA on it…" The President paused to gather his thoughts, while aides ran to carry out his instructions. "I'll need to address both the House and the Senate, schedule something for tomorrow evening and ensure that both party leaders will come to the White House either sometime tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest, we need to coordinate a response before this gets away from us. Marlene, make sure they're both aware that we won't tolerate any partisan bullshit on this! I'll call a state of emergency if I have to, but we will maintain order and I don't need some ambitious fool pouring fuel on the fires!"

Hayes' Chief of Staff hurriedly typed notes on her tablet and nodded sharply in response.

"Next, Brockton Bay, we need that place locked down and properly secure before some cape decides that provoking the aliens is a great idea, no matter all evidence to the contrary." Hayes stood up at that and pointed at the screen showing a high-altitude image of Dragon's ravaged base. "I won't have a repeat of this on American soil, much less within one of our cities! We have to clean up house, now, or the Mandalorians will set it on fire while they're doing it for us! I can promise you, none of us will like the consequences if that happens." He turned his attention to Costa-Brown. "Chief-Director, I won't tolerate your organization's usual legal and political maneuvering. You will either fall in line and do your best to aid us in containing this, or I will find someone willing to do it, am I clear?"

* * *

**=MK=**

**Dragon's base  
Canada  
Earth Bet  
**  
Five minutes after the assault began, there wasn't a single operational weapon emplacement within the base's exterior. The building themselves were a different matter. Breaching their way to the primary shield, so it wouldn't be able to activate and potentially seal them inside, and the main reactors, in order to shut them down before a potential fail-safe could overload them and ruin a very so far, very well-executed operation, took some doing and led to otherwise avoidable casualties, though none of them fatal. Liberal application of firepower opened the way to the primary shield generator, followed by hopefully surgical strikes which disabled it, yet preserving a lot of equipment for study.

Reaching the reactors themselves proved harder and more time-consuming. With all corridors leading to them flooded either with near plasma or swimming in liquid nitrogen, the Combat Engineers decided to make their way in, using careful application of explosives and laser drills that were hastily flown in from the Vendetta to reach the control room, which was dark. In the end, they decided that the fastest way to neutralize the danger was to cut off the fuel supply for the fusion reactor and engineer a controlled breach, venting plasma and channeling it towards corridors full with liquid nitrogen so nothing of value would be lost.

Breaching the central building of the compound, supposedly containing the primary servers turned out to be a more involved process. It was protected by its own shield and finally shutting down the base's primary power source didn't affect it at all.

"This could have gone better." Commander Ordo muttered. He critically examined the second primary target of the operation, made sure that their captives were already secured, and on the way to the Vendetta and called Captain Fel.

"Vendetta Actual, Raider Actual, we have the Dragonslayers bagged and en-route to your brig. We need some heavier firepower to breach the defenses surrounding the other primary objective."

"Raider Actual, Vendetta Actual, affirmative. Heavy Combat Engineering Company is disembarking as we speak and will be en-route to your location momentarily. If necessary, we'll deploy SPHAs to burn through the shield. Keep me apprised on any further developments, Vendetta Actual, out."

While Kole was speaking with the Captain, the Infiltrator team gathered nearby. A glance was enough to tell him they were through some heavy fighting – everyone's armor carried the scars to prove, however otherwise they all appeared to be all right. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said about his Shock Troopers. So far, there were thirteen confirmed dead with two wounded in critical condition who might not make it. While when all was said and done, those were more than acceptable casualties for this kind of operation, the losses still stung… and were incredibly light compared to what something like this would have cost early in the Clone Wars, while everyone was still trying to figure out how to fight a proper war.

"Ma'am, do you want to take a crack at this or should we wait for the Combat Engineers?" Ordo politely asked the Force Adept.

"This is your show now, Commander. My work here is done and I'll be returning to Brockton Bay on the first available transport."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
Dragon's base  
Canada  
Earth Bet**

Armsmaster's beard twitched – the only outward sign of his real feelings, while he watched two… vehicles, which had a disturbing resemblance to Mobile Suits come into view and walk down a nearby hill. Those things were huge, wasteful, inefficient, they were Mobile Suits for God's sake. Real ones, very much working, and the sheer waste of materials put into them almost made him cry out in despair. The things he could do with the materials and equipment that made such obscene monuments of arrogance possible… The thought was enough to make a grown man cry…

Colin paid no attention to Narwhal, who had removed her helmet, so she could let loose her long silver hair and put her distinct horn on display. She was staring at the approaching mecha as well and regretting that her phone didn't survive the assault. She needed pictures of this, even better, if at all possible to drag Masamune to see the Mobile Suits, because otherwise, he would never let her hear the end of this. The Tinker had a few passions left, mecha and super sentai anime were on the top of that shortlist.

It didn't help that those had an aesthetic that vaguely resembled the Zakus, Masamune had proudly displayed on posters all over his workshop, not to mention the small models he liked to tinker with, allegedly to help him decompress…

For such large machines, the Mobile Suits were surprisingly agile and fast, and not just because their huge strides could eat up distance like nobody's business.

They were armed too, with the leading machine having a truck-sized backpack and something resembling scarily huge flamethrower in its hands. Narwhal's guess wasn't far from the true – that was an over-sized plasma cutter meant to cut into warship armor, either for SAR efforts, to expedite the breach into generally disabled enemy combatants or to help up at the breakers.

Incidentally, devices such as this one turned out to be very effective at removing all kinds of more mundane obstacles and opening up enemy fortifications…

Up close and personal, when there was no one to intervene, such plasma cutters could help overload shields as well, which the engineering vehicle began doing as soon as it reached the central building within Dragon's compound. Blinding stream of plasma struck the defense barrier just above the ceiling, and the heat was unbearable even at a significant distance.

"Narwhal, Armsmaster," The Sith's voice dragged the two Parahumans away from the light-show.

"Ms. Veil." Narwhal nodded. "I'm glad to see you made it in one piece as well."

"I've dealt with worse." The alien woman said in a dismissive tone. "Your assistance is appreciated and won't be forgotten. I'm sure that official contact and certain offers aimed both at the Guild and the Canadian government would be forthcoming in the near future." The Chiss' unsettling eyes focused on the Tinker. "Armsmaster, what do you intend to do now? We both know that your organization won't necessarily take you back with open arms."

"I'll see this through the end." Colin's face twitched. "Whatever end."

"In that case, I'm offering you an invitation to the celebrations surrounding Empire and Victory Day. That way you'll have time to get your head straight after the murder of your friend. You will also be at hand if Vicky manages to put Dragon back together. If we're lucky in that regard, I'm sure she could use a friendly face."

"And you're doing this of the goodness of your heart?" Narwhal asked skeptically.

"By the Force, no! There are multiple benefits from our end. First, we won't have to dig Armsmaster here out of whatever deep dark hole his organization might decide to stash him into, and thus avoid some awkward issues with people we hope to work with. He'll have some hopefully stress-free time to see first hand what we can offer, knowledge and resource-wise if he decides to sign up with us for the long haul…" The Chiss smiled happily, speaking earnestly as if what she was saying was very much obvious and natural.

"You don't intend to let us have Dragon's servers, do you?"

"We didn't commit a warship, deploy a Battalion of elite Shock Troopers and so far lose at least a dozen of our best soldiers out of mere benevolence. If at all possible, we'll bring Dragon back. However, no matter if that pans out or not, we will keep all the technical data we can recover as a consolation prize. If we let your organization have the data drives, there is no guarantee we would see any of their contents unless we have a repeat of today's exercise and that is in no one's interest."

"So you're altering the deal," Narwhal muttered. "I shouldn't be surprised, you're a Sith and from what I see, you wear the title proudly."

"Thank you kindly. I've earned it." Aria's smile didn't even flicker. "As for the deal, it is not altered. If we're unable to put Dragon back together, you're free to gather any and all tinkers and thinkers you can, and we'll provide the data drives so you can do your best. Not that we don't necessarily trust you, but well, we don't fully trust you yet. Trust is earned after all, and we barely know each other."

While they spoke, various transport ships and their escorts came over the base and landed to either pick up Shock Trooper units or disembark line infantry, which took charge over security, while even more Combat Engineers swarmed all over the compound.

"This is not right…" Armsmaster ground his teeth and glared at the scavengers already pocking Dragon's technology.

"We bled for it, it's ours now. Rule One of International Relationships, Armsmaster: might is what matters most. Rule Number Two – diplomacy is dressing up might with flowery language, doing your best not to have to use it, if you're particularly benevolent, or doing everything in your power to ensure someone more powerful doesn't use theirs against you." The Sith explained as if she was quoting someone.

"That's the first time I hear it put quite this way," Narwhal commented.

"As I understand it, before the war a lot of diplomats and governments wouldn't have put it that way either. It's a different age now, a much more dangerous age."

The way the Sith said it, she considered the current state of affairs a good thing, which served as yet another reminder for anyone listening, about who and what they were dealing with.

The shield protecting the compound's central building flickered out and a shrill alarm echoed over it, gaining everyone's attention.

"Raider Elements One to Three, prepare to breach. Steel One-One, follow right behind them…" Commander Ordo's voice cut through the alarm's scream like a hot knife through butter, amplified by his armor speakers.

"Well, it's time to see if we'll complete the second primary objective of this operation or if I should go find Saint and demonstrate the scope of my frustration…" Aria muttered and walked towards Dragon's inner sanctum.

They had to face even more automated defenses, however between a Sith spearheading their advance, a platoon of Combat Engineers bringing all kinds of deadly toys and three Platoons of Shock Troopers, the Mandalorians got to secure the building in record time, suffering no permanent casualties; unless you counted eight slagged, frozen or cut apart droids. Half an hour later, after painstakingly checking for traps, several small droids breached the server room and began scanning its contents. At the same time, a team of slicers did it's best to take control of Dragon's orphaned systems and ensure that both the Birdcage and the various quarantine zones the AI used to maintain, remained properly locked down.

"We're not familiar with this kind of data storage, however as far as we can tell, it's physically intact and we should be able to safely recover the data-cores." The Lieutenant in charge of the Combat Engineers explained.

"Well done, Lieutenant. Secure the data-drives and bring them to the Vendetta. I'm sure my Master will have transport ready to take them to Victoria as soon as practical." Aria announced to Armsmaster's profound dissatisfaction.

What did he expect? That making a deal with the devil would have no negative consequences or that he could get away with it? His fingers twitched, missing his halberd. The Sith met his eyes and raised an eyebrow, a gesture that somehow held a great amount of meaning. It wasn't gloating, that much Colin was sure. He was sure he saw something akin to understanding mixed with something else, he didn't quite get.

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	39. Chapter 15 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**=MK=**

**Part 3**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011  
near Boston  
United States  
Earth Bet  
**  
The Travelers gathered within closed gas-station using it as a temporary shelter. To everyone's relief, Noelle was in the back, surrounded by the sound of breaking shelves, shattering glass, and loud munching.

"Krouze, are you insane?!" Marissa hissed at their leader, clutching tightly her helmet.

"Noelle's getting worse!" Krouze hissed right back, trying to keep his voice quiet enough that his mutated girlfriend would be able to hear. He held a cigar in trembling hand and nervously tried to light it up with a lighter that refused to produce even a single spark. "We need to do something, soon! Do any of you have a better idea!?" Trickster snapped.

"Do you want to leave Noelle at the mercy of the Sith?!" Jess stared incredulously at him from her wheelchair. Her pale skin almost glowed in the twilight within the abandoned building.

"Not particularly, no," Francis admitted. "However, Panacea's in Brockton Bay too. She's our best bet and even if she can't help, the aliens might – you saw that news report of them providing advanced medical technology!"

"Why would they help us?" Marissa demanded.

"We'll offer them our services. Those Mandalorians are mercenaries, right? It can't be worse than what we've been doing ever since ending up in this hellhole!" Krouze snapped back. "Besides, we'll look for Panacea first!"

"This is a stupid plan, Francis!" Jess shot back.

"Hell, either Panacea or the aliens should be able to get you up and walking! It's our best bet, I'm telling you!"

"It's crazy what it is!"

"Francis, it hurts!" Noelle shouted from the back a moment before a loud crash echoed through the building.

"Not doing anything, fast, is crazy!" Francis hissed under his breath and rant into the twilight.

* * *

**=MK=**

**14 January 2011  
PRT HQ  
Brockton Bay  
Earth Bet**

Live feed from drones and reruns from muted news channels ran on multiple screens across the conference room. Emily looked at the unfolding chaos with critical eyes, knowing very well that thanks to Armsmaster, the fallout of the ongoing debacle would likely end her career… However, not right now. No one else wanted to be in her shoes and thus be in the spotlight for potentially even greater disaster, this one on American soil. Of course, the odds of Brockton Bay finding itself on fire soon, suddenly grew exponentially, because, for all it's training and preparation, the coming operation to clean up the city was now being rushed even more than before.

Emily had a painful experience with rushed operations, one of those was the reason she ended up in Brockton Bay in the first place after all. Yet, given the circumstances, Piggot would have it no other way. She didn't even want to think about what a nightmare a hardliner like Tagg might cause, even if surprisingly enough, his rhetoric concerning the aliens was subdued compared to his usual vitriol. After seeing what the Mandalorians considered a quick reaction force, Emily was more determined than ever to ensure that no one in her city would provoke them to call down that huge warship… or something even larger and meaner.

That's why, she had every Parahuman in the PRT-ENE who wasn't currently out on patrol, which meant prowling in the general vicinity of the docks and hopefully discouraging through their presence any shenanigans against the aliens, the Wards included, stuck into the room with her.

They had all seen either the edited or full report on the events at the Docks when the Merchants decided to commit mass suicide. That by itself should have been more than eye-opening, but then again, Parahumans.

"This could have been Brockton Bay," Emily pointed at a close up on Dragon's burning base, now under alien control. "if the Merchants or any other gang in this city managed to provoke our… guests any more than they already did." Piggot paused. "This still could happen to us, if any of the villains likely heading this way to take advantage of the opportunity to gain access to alien technology provokes the Mandalorians. This," Emily stressed for a third time, "could happen if we are unable to contain and crush our gang problem in the coming days and it spills over into alien-controlled territory."

The Director let their new reality sink in if it hadn't already, before pointing straight at the large monitor at the far end of the conference room. This one was showing an aerial view of Vancouver. Almost half the city was dark, a stark contrast to the glowing windows from the rest of it during the fast-approaching early night.

"Half a city had its infrastructure fried as collateral damage, in Canada, at the height of winter. This could be us, and if something like it happens, it would be Brockton Bay's death knell unless the aliens take the city and rebuild it." What happened to Vancouver was a major disaster, yet it could have been so much worse it wasn't even funny.

It could have been deliberate for example, it could have been the whole city… or the city might not be even there at all. The same could happen to Brockton Bay, soon.

Emily looked at the heroes under her authority, and Armsmaster's absence was a painful reminder of her failure, yet another thing to haunt her. Soon they would be spearheading the assault against the ABB and Empire 88, and the last time, Lung by himself was more than enough to hold off not only all assets the PRT-ENE could throw at him but even limited reinforcements, which was, in fact, the last time before the current crisis that Brockton Bay saw any real aid from the PRT and Protectorate at large.

Now, she had almost all the help she could ask for, even the Triumvirate on standby but so far not authorized to intervene in order not to provoke the Mandalorians through their presence. In the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours, heroes and PRT units from New York, Boston, and L.A. would be converging on her city, get briefed on their part, and prepare to join an assault led by troopers using alien equipment.

It wasn't enough time to properly coordinate such an operation and ensure everyone knew their place in it. It might have been plausible with Dragon coordinating, but without her, AI or not, it was going to be an order of magnitude harder.

"To prevent this from happening, we'll have to contain and apprehend a raging dragon, a serial suicide bomber, face a rain of swords and everything else the Empire 88 could throw at us. We will have one chance to do this right…" Piggot trailed off and waved a hand at the monitors streaming live footage of the disaster up north, "or that will happen right here."

The only silver lining Emily found was that for once both Assault and Clockblocker kept their mouths shut, paying close attention both to her words and the camera feeds.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Mandalorian Knights FOB  
Brockton Bay  
Earth Bet **

Lisa couldn't wait for her medical leave and an opportunity to get away from her too-eager power for a bit. The immediate fallout of Coil's over-reach had been exhilarating, scary and a pointed reminder that she exchanged one amoral, evil overlord for a much more dangerous one. Having access to Coil's files told her all she ever needed to know about what would have happened to her in the fullness of time if she hadn't escaped his reach. Hell, her power gleefully informed Lisa what exactly had happened to her while she still worked for the bastard – almost certainly every single visit in person, along with who knew how many kidnappings to ensure she wasn't about to run away, complete with torture, rape and worse, all in throw-away timelines she thankfully couldn't remember.

It was primarily because of alien drugs she wasn't still barfing her guts out or close to catatonic because of her power's unwanted extrapolations. At the same time, it was a blessing in disguise that her power didn't have enough data to properly project what the Sith would do to her if she ever betrayed them, something Lisa kept telling herself she wouldn't even think about, for a very good reason too.

What just happened to Dragon's base was a pointed reminder that she might run, for a time, if she was very good and very lucky, however, she couldn't really hide and more importantly, there was no power on Earth which could protect her. Lisa swallowed down the bile trying to rise in her throat and rinsed her mouth with a mouthful of cola, before trying to drag her wandering mind back to the task at hand.

Coil had his grabby fingers practically everywhere as far as Brockton Bay was concerned – from the PRT to the gangs, from a legitimate business, to what passed for unpowered criminal enterprises within the city.

He had the secret identities of everyone on the radar within Brockton Bay and some beyond the city – heroes, villains, and rogues alike. Lisa's included and not just her alias, but her real name, those of her bastard parents, her late brother… Lisa's face twitched at that, and not for the first time, she hoped that Coil was indeed enjoying all the "hospitality" the Sith would offer to someone who crossed them.

The thinker glanced at the spider-like Medical Droid hanging at the corner of her makeshift office and raised an eyebrow at the dull silver machine. It focused a cluster of sensors on her and beeped in displeasure.

"No more medicine for at least one more hour." It chided her as if she was a child, using the next best thing to a posh British accent. It was almost like something out of the movies but not quite.

Lisa grumbled under her nose at the spoilsport of a machine and did her best to drag her mind to the job at hand. As soon as she was done, she could take the next shuttle to orbit and a ship out of Sol and thus, away from her power being "helpful". She needed a vacation damn it! She cursed in a very much unladylike manner, one which would make her mother infuriated if she heard her, an image had to be maintained after all and glared at her laptop's screen.

The ABB was a no go. Knowing Lung's identity – Kenta didn't help any. Lisa couldn't see a way to bring him on board. The same was true for that madman Oni-Lee and if Coil's notes were right, it would have been mostly futile anyway – their resident serial suicide bomber might be losing his mind if he had anything to lose in the first place.

The Merchants were dealt with anyway, which left only the Empire 88, independent villains, rogues.

Even if pained Lisa to say so, the Nazi bastards had a handful of members who showed promise. Rune, who Coil for some reason believed to be a lesbian and had it noted as a way to potentially blackmail and subvert her, Kaizer, who could be attacked through his identity as Max Anders and wasn't that a surprise… and then there was Purity, who was Anders' wife, who had a few months old daughters as a weakness to exploit. Curiously enough, the baby, Aster wasn't slated as a possible weakness as far as Kaizer was concerned… who would sacrifice her without a second thought and use her death to bring Purity fully back into the fold, Lisa's power hurried to supply?

This made for two Empire capes who might be "easy" to subvert, and then there were Victor and Othala, where gaining one might bright the other onboard if reluctantly…

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Mandalorian Knights FOB**

**D****ocks**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

Aria jumped off the shuttle's ramp before the transport could land, leaving a decidedly unhappy Armsmaster behind. She nodded at the FOB's CO, who fell in step with her.

"There have been no major new developments, ma'am. We're observing and increased presence of local reporters along with security forces keeping an eye on them and our perimeter. You've got five calls from Director Piggot, and Specialist Wilbourn has a briefing for you."

"I see. The Director can wait, keep the situation on the perimeter peaceful if at all feasible and arrange a transport for Armsmaster to a destination of his choice, within reason of course." Aria went to the armory, using the Force to shed her damaged armor faster and easier, before designating it for shipping back home so Mandal Motors could study the damage pattern and figure out if any improvements were feasible, before hitting the fresher and getting into a clean change of clothes.

Aria found her newest minion rubbing her temples and glaring at the Medical Droid looking after her.

"My head is killing me!" The blond girl pouted at the gleaming Droid.

"Then it's time to take a break. No more drugs for the next two hours." The spider-like machine answered with a hint of exasperation. That by itself was an achievement, because this particular model was known for its patience and good bedside manner, which was naturally one of the reasons it was the standard model used by the Freehold. Good bedside manners hugely decreased dismantling incidents when treating irate wounded Mandalorians, or Sith for that matter.

"Lisa, you can let your power have a break, or your power can let you have a break, I don't care which. You're talking a break from using it anyway." Aria declared, making the girl snap her head around.

These Earthling's reactions never ceased to be amusing, often delicious too, especially when they knew they were dealing with a Sith. At the same time, just like her Master warned Aria, constantly enjoying people's fear and suffering thanks to the Dark Side, didn't make for good head-space or bright shinning future if you ever let your control slip.

"Hi boss!" Lisa waved, plastering a strained smile on her face.

"You know, fake smiles don't work on me, especially when they're that obvious. You have something for me, Lisa? And you can chill off, I don't bite." Well, that was a lie, in certain circumstances Aria did bite and scratch a lot as a certain very good friend of her could attest to, but there was no reason to strain Lisa's brain anymore than it already was.

"Briefing, yes!" The Thinker nodded rapidly. "I've gone through Coil's files pertaining local Parahumans and have a list of targets, who might be open for recruitment. Most useful and controversial are going to be a number of Empire 88 Capes, who are obviously Nazi."

Aria scrunched her nose at that. Not just human supremacists, which were normal occurrence, just like Chiss supremacist and every other species-supremacists, but imbeciles believing that skin color mattered beyond aesthetics. That said, blue was best color, and it was shame that her boy-toy was kind of brown but no one is perfect… These so called Nazi on the other hand? Followers of a failed ideology, all but worshiping an incompetent system led by a crazy moron, something that was obviously even after a cursory examination of reputable history sources collated by a Droid data-analyst.

"Are you sure a few of those could be of use? Their crime-syndicate already overstepped their bounds by presuming to threat with us as equals."

"First, Purity, Blaster Eight, one of the heaviest hitters not only in the city but globally. There are indications that she is trying to separate from the mainstream Empire 88, she's a new mother too and that likely contributes, along with the fact that the father of her little girl is bastard. He's Kaizer too, enough said I think…" Lisa rambled.

"I can see how something like that might make her re-evaluate her priorities even without really changing her attitude. So the self-proclaimed king spawned?"

"And according to Coil's notes, he wouldn't really care if something happens to his daughter, beyond it being a great excuse to bring Purity back into the fold and go medieval on whoever crossed him."

"Ah, so he's that kind of scum too." Aria nodded in understanding. "Such ruthlessness is almost commendable and utterly moronic as far as retaining the loyalty of your people go. If you sacrifice your own family to gain an advantage, you would surely sacrifice both your minions and their families without a second thought as well."

Lisa gave her a weirded out look, which she chose to ignore.

"Well, we can offer this Purity a lot of benefits, taking her unlamented husband out of the picture and keeping his organization far away from her and her daughter for starters. Who is next?" **  
**  
"Rune, again from the Empire 88…" Lisa continued her report.

An hour later, the briefing was over, and Tattletale was still trying to wrap her aching head around the new insanity thought up by the Sith. She really shouldn't be surprised anymore. Here she was, wearing casual, and thankfully very warm clothes, walking hand in had with Aria, as if they were sisters or best friends. No one paid them any attention as they slipped past the far off police and PRT cordon around the docks, not to mention the media and assorted hangers-on who wanted to get a glimpse of the aliens. The less said about the ever increasing crowd of Star Wars fans, many in costumes, including what looked like a small army of Stormtroopers, the better. Thinking about them was enough to push Lisa's power into even further frenzy and it was already acting up more than enough.

"You're insane!" She hissed at the Chiss happily dragging her to take a taxi of all things. It was almost as bad as taking a shuttle there!

"What gave you such an odd idea, Lisa?" Aria looked down at her with eyes sparkling in mirth.

"We're breaking the unwritten rules, no we're setting them on fire and dancing on the ashes!"

"Do you have a point or is this your nervousness talking?" The Sith asked in concerned tone. "You really need a vacation. Perhaps a boyfriend or girlfriend too, or both if that's what you like." Aria nodded sagely to Lisa's unmitigated horror.

Tattletale was still spluttering and struggling with all the options her power gleefully showed her when they arrived, took an elevator and soon found themselves in front of an armored apartment door. Aria pressed the doorbell without a care in the world and when the door opened, revealing a short brown haired woman, who looked almost as harried as Lisa felt. The woman's eyes widened when she saw them and blinding glow filled up the stairway.

"Hi, Kayden!" The crazy Sith announced without a care in the world. "We're here for a job interview!"

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	40. Chapter 15 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**=MK=**

**Part ****5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011**

**Kayden Anders' apartment****  
Brockton Bay  
Earth Bet**

Lisa's trembling hands clutched a fine china cup, barely registering it was almost hot enough to scald her fingers. She was still trying to process the fact that she was both alive and in one piece because she was sure Purity was about to blast them in the next century the moment she saw the Sith at her doorstep. Thinker or not, Lisa wasn't sure how she ended sitting on a modern couch beside the mousy glowing woman, with the grinning Sith lounging on a couch across a delicate glass coffee table.

The tea was strongly fortified too, and for that Lisa would be forever thankful, even if it was still too hot to try. That no one apparently cared that she was underage and that she usually didn't drink, the shenanigans of the hopefully late and very much not missed Coil notwithstanding. The Sith on the other hand? Just the Apprentice was more than enough to turn Lisa into a raging alcoholic at this rate, and this was the infernal woman trying to be nice… That didn't really compute and even Lisa's power refused to give her good answers on this front.

Lisa looked at Purity, who was nothing like her Cape persona, then back to the happy Sith, and prayed that her tea would cool down enough to drink yesterday. Almost dying, or worse, being kidnapped by Coil's henchmen so he could do unspeakable things to her, for real this time, knowing what he had been doing to her in disposable timelines, and now almost dying again, because the Sith were crazy… those events didn't make for a good head-space, no sire!

"Let me get this straight!" Purity hissed furiously, something decidedly at odds with how she looked – tiny, unassuming, more than pretty even when caught unkempt and without a touch of makeup. "You," She jabbed an accusing finger glowing with power at the Sith, "want to offer me a job, with all kinds of benefits."

"That's right!" Aria nodded and sipped her tea, which should have been practically boiling, and pointedly not fortified with whatever rot-gut Kayden had on hand… or was it paint-thinner? Lisa's power wasn't too sure, however, it was damn strong, that much was certain.

"And you," Purity looked at Lisa a bit softer, "are what? Moral support, or human shield?"

"Thinker who got an offer she couldn't possibly refuse, for a second time in just a few months too!" Lisa chipped in.

"Coil won't ever darken your doorstep again." Aria reasonably pointed out.

"And if one day I dearly wish that neither you nor your Master or other aliens darkens my doorstep?" Lisa asked pointedly.

"Then you're either out of luck or your services are no longer needed, and you'll be able to enjoy your retirement."

The damned thing was that Lisa's power was sure Aria was truthful. It was also sure that if her service were deemed indispensable, she wouldn't be allowed to retire anytime soon if ever. As if that wasn't bad enough, Lisa could have sworn that her power was practically giddy at the prospect!

"You know, the Unwritten Rules are supposed to be a thing!" Kayden grumbled while delicately sniffing her tea. The way she glowed brighter spoke volumes about how she felt about the situation.

"Those are of no consequences as far as we're concerned." Aria shrugged.

That right there described the Mandalorians in a nutshell – something vital about keeping the world from being on fire even more than in usually was, and they didn't give a damn about it! It wasn't hard to figure out why, as Kayden amply demonstrated by warily glancing at a large muted TV showing the events in Canada. Villains going off the reservation and setting Earth Bet on fire, well that wasn't the Mandalorian's house, not to mention that such chaos would offer benefits, if different, compared to a stable place to trade with.

Possibly more benefits in the short to medium term, without sustained major investments, Lisa's power promptly supplied.

"We do offer a number of benefits." Aria began her sell, "and you won't be able to find equivalents to many on Earth Bet."

"They're actually very good benefits as long as we follow the party line and don't betray them." Lisa piped up, and she didn't even have to lie on that front. It was still hard to accept that working for honest to God Sith offered much better long term prospects compared to being one of Coil's conscripts, or potentially in Kayden's case, being a not so reluctant Nazi.

Unless the Nazis won, which they very well might if the wrong people triggered with the wrong powers – a depressingly realistic possibility, because Earth Bet couldn't have nice things, and if those somehow materialized, they came with all the strings attached. You know, like genuine Sith… Lisa stared at her fortified tea with ill-disguised interest and dared to take a sip, which promptly led to a coughing fit. She wasn't sure if it was the hot tea or whatever paint-stripper Kayden put into the drink that caused it, and didn't particularly care. Lisa carefully took another sip and this time managed not to splatter it all over Purity's expensive table.

"You know, you'll fit right in. You already have the right idea about dealing with us." Aria pipped up.

"Do I dare ask who else you drove to drinking?" Kayden asked warily.

"A great many people all across the galaxy, some are doing hard drugs in futile attempt to reconcile their new reality." That very happy response took Lisa aback. She could see it happening too, even though her exposure to Sith and their unique brand of madness was very much limited so far.

"You know, you aren't making a good sales pitch…" Kayden mumbled and froze when both Lisa and Aria focused their attention on her.

"You're not about to jump out of your skin now or begin blasting the building to pieces around our ears, so it worked," Aria announced, making Lisa splutter.

She was a Thinker damn it, she should have seen this coming as something almost obvious! What the hell, power?!

The distant sensation of mirth Lisa got was anything but reassuring. Perhaps, the Sith was right and she could use a long vacation, preferably far away from both Earth Bet and any Sith… One could dream, right?

"Now, on a more serious note," Aria continued, still smiling, yet no longer acting or looking at all irrelevant. "Our offer comes with the prospect of either Mandalorian or Imperial citizenship and safe home on a world of your choice you can pick up later from an approved safe list. This, of course, comes with all duties, responsibilities, and benefits such citizenship entails, including access to the best hospitals and medical science in at least two dimensions, the education you can only dream of on Earth, state of the art childcare, no Endbringers, crazy villains or Max Anders darkening your doorstep and endangering your daughter…" Aria trailed off. "Who is hungry and about to make it known."

Kayden stared at the Sith wide-eyed, a depressingly common occurrence, as Lisa found out the hard way, then put down her cup and vanished in a hurry when a baby began wailing in a nearby room.

"You're insane!" Lisa hissed at her boss, good ideas be damned! "You almost got us both killed, more importantly, you almost got me killed!"

"Nonsense, we were safe." Aria waved a hand.

"Yep, you're insane. Fuck my life…"

"Do you really think I would have allowed her to blast us or something?" Aria asked with genuine curiosity.

Lisa was about to snap back when the words registered and she clamped her mouth shut. If this was almost anyone else, she would have concluded that they were drunk on their power. With Aria being a Sith, that much was given, surely, however from what the Thinker had seen and heard so far, her new boss wasn't boasting. She might have been able to drop Purity before the Empire cape could burn them to crisp.

"It was still insane!" Lisa repeated stubbornly.

"You're too tightly wound up." The Sith concluded and Lisa gaped at her.

At that point, Kayden appeared with a crying bundle in her hands and tore off towards what was presumably the kitchen.

"Human brats, what's with them, wailing and unhealthy colors?" Aria asked in clear exasperation.

"How would you know?" Lisa blurted out before her nearly non-existent brain to mouth filter could even try to engage.

"My kind of niece? Cousin?" The blue woman shrugged and waved a hand uncertainly, "she was the same."

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part ****6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**14 January 2011**

**Kayden Anders' apartment  
Brockton Bay  
Earth Bet**

Kayden held her daughter like a lifeline, her mind raced through all the terrifying implications her 'guests' represented, all the while, she acted on autopilot, preparing Aster's meal. Her baby girl kept fussing, thankfully not knowing the kind of danger calmly sitting in the next room. At first, Kayden was in shock at being found out, and worse, trouble following her right back home. That nearly led to a confrontation, which might have brought the building on top of their collective heads, something that she didn't really think about when she saw the alien on her doorstep. It was a painful irony that it took a Sith of all people talking to defuse the situation and prevent Kayden from risking Aster's life. That by itself had her in a daze for the rest of the meeting, with her brain refusing to think straight. It didn't help that every time the blue woman opened her mouth, Kayden had the instinctive need to lash at her and remove the threat, no matter how bad an idea it might be in the long run.

One thing was certain, she could no longer hide, and that left her with a limited number of bad options. Returning to the Empire, and Max's poisonous influence, wasn't something she was looking forward to. Running alone with Aster, well that obviously wasn't the best of ideas for all kinds of reasons. Going to the Protectorate? Even if she didn't do hard time for her acts as Purity, the odds of keeping Aster weren't good enough to ever seriously consider that option.

Throwing herself at the dubious mercy of the Sith? Needless to say, that was probably as bad if not worse choice than the rest. The real question was what option would be best for Aster?

Surrendering to the "authorities" was really out. Kayden knew how broken the Foster Care system was even when there weren't people after you because of who your parents might be, and that was on a good day.

She put Aster's food on the oven and nervously tried to distract the still fussing little girl, when her daughter stared at something over her shoulder. Kayden warily turned around and reflexively lit up with her power, something that made Aster squint and giggle at her. The alien was right here, leaning on the door frame and studying her curiously.

"Just some food for thought, Mrs. Anders," The blue woman took a sip from her coffee, nodded to herself and continued. "We recovered the identities of virtually all known Parahumans in this city from Coil. Any number of people and organizations could have followed suit. Your so called 'unwritten rules' are a joke, which ceases to be relevant the moment someone decides it suits their purposes." The Sith took another sip of the fortified beverage. "This is quite good. It certainly beats most commercially available blends of Caf. Anyway, your little syndicate's days are numbered. Your local government is about to secure the region and remove any elements which might provoke us into action."

"I though that you had a deal with the Empire…" Kayden trailed off when the alien snorted.

"The only empire we have a deal with is the Federated Empire the Mandalorian Freehold is a valued member of. Your little syndicate happens to be both a potential thorn in our side, and worse, your ideology is in a direct clash with the Mandalorian Ways. It is only a matter of time before we would have to make an example of your so called 'Empire'. The question, Mrs. Anders, is where will you find yourself, when your little crime syndicate is no more, and all the people who have an ax to grind with it's members are out for blood?"

Kayden looked away from the alien and stared at Aster, trying to calm herself. Meanwhile, her daughter was apparently fascinated with the strange blue woman, and was both giggling and waving at her. Well, apparently, she was a bad a judge of character as her mother.

"Our offer stands for now, Mrs. Anders. Safety and bright future off world, away from all the issues ravaging Earth Bet." The Alien finished her drink, floated the cup to the counter next to the sink and turned around. "Think of your daughter, Mrs. Anders, and what future she could have."

Only after the Sith left, Kayden registered that the woman had pointedly been calling her Mrs. Anders ever since she came to the kitchen's doorstep. She had been putting an emphasis on the family name, one that Kayden would have noticed much earlier if her mind wasn't racing in so many directions.

"There is a comm unit on the table, just press the button and call us if you agree to our offer." The Sith announced from the living room. A brief muttered conversation followed by a bit of shuffling ensued and Kayden heard her apartment's door open and close. She leaned on the oven, hugging Aster for all she was worth, and thanking God that they came through this in one piece.

Naturally, Aster was unamused and uncaring about her mother's problems, she was hungry too and there were no more distracting blue women to take up her attention for a few moments, so she made her displeasure known in a hurry. All things considered, Kayden was grateful for that brief distraction. Soon, her daughter's food was warm and she busied herself with feeding her baby girl.

It was afterwards, when the full gravity of their situation hit her, leaving her mind spinning for a solution which was not forthcoming.

* * *

**=MK=**

**14 January 2011**

**Detention Center**

**PRT HQ**

**Brockton Bay**

**Earth Bet**

As soon as Armsmaster stepped foot in the PRT HQ, he found himself surrounded by tense troopers and a number of his former colleagues, who politely requested that he remove all his gear and accompany them to Master/Stranger screening. That's how he found himself in a mostly empty and featureless cell, specifically build to ensure there was nothing to use either as a weapon to hurt others or against himself. A long, familiar, battery of tests followed, one which would ensure he would be stuck in the same room likely for days. At that point, he didn't particularly care, even though he knew intimately how bad the desire to tinker could get when not regularly exercised.

"Armsmaster." Piggot's voice came from a loudspeaker built into the ceiling. She sounded particularly irate this evening, which was to be expected, really.

"Director." Colin dully nodded in the direction of the closest hidden camera.

"I need both an explanation and a report over the events in Canada."

"Dragon was my friend." Colin spoke in a voice he barely recognized, which was fitting, because even thinking about what happened to her and the fact that the Mandalorians simply confiscated her hard-drives, was simply infuriating. The fact that they were likely one of the best options for bringing her back if at all possible, didn't help.

He had been desperate, Colin recognized that. The aliens weren't acting of the goodness of their hearts, he knew that intellectually, he simply didn't really care. Getting the Dragonslayers for what they did, that had been more important, even if he hadn't been able to recognize it properly at the time.

"We've all lost friends and more in this line of work, Armsmaster." Piggot chided. There was more than enough barely restrained anger and frustration in her voice that he could easily recognize it without software to aid him.

"That's true, Director." Colin answered stubbornly. It was just that, even now, he found it hard to care. He had lost people before, true. Friends even. None of them were Dragon, and the fact was that this not only confused him but easily drove him beyond what he would have usually considered. What he felt now, that his anger was more or less burned out and the Dragonslayers were in custody, Colin frankly wasn't sure.

"Give me a verbal report over your actions ever since you decided to go rogue. We'll see where we'll go when I've heard you."

Having nothing better to do, Colin recited the events that happened over the past few hours in a dull, far-off voice. He was pretty sure that his career with the Protectorate was pretty much over, the only question was what the exact consequences would be. Armsmaster wouldn't be surprised if he ended up in some deep dark hole, where he could tinker under close supervision as far away from a position to cause any trouble as possible. He wasn't sure how to feel about the possibility, perhaps he deserved it. How easy to endure any feasible punishment would be was another question, one which might not be particularly relevant in the long run.

The Sith would have their due, he was certain of it. They had Dragon or what was left of her too… Colin stared at the white padded wall of the cell and for the first time since hitching ride back to Brockton Bay, wondered why did he come back? Was it a misplaced sense of duty? The right thing to do, or merely a habit? He didn't really know, and in the same vein, he wasn't sure what he would do if his days with the Protectorate were numbered.

* * *

**=MK=**

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums


	41. Chapter 16 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****6**

**=MK=**

**Part 1**

**=MK=**

* * *

**Chancellor's temporarily residence**

**Republica 500**

**Coruscant**

If it wasn't one crisis, impending disaster or at least a headache-inducing mess Satine had to deal with, then it was something else, usually particularly vexing that ate up all her time these days. Tonight it was no exception. Why people clamored for and actually wanted her never sufficiently damned job, she would never know… The Empress snorted at that thought. Of course, she knew! It was either the allure of power, misguided patriotism or the fools didn't know of the workload that came with the job.

Tonight was no exception – she was looking forward to a handful of peaceful hours spent with her daughter before going to bed, hopefully without the problems of the galaxy knocking on her doorstep again, when Zash of all people darkened her doorstep and the Sith Lord wasn't something you could ignore. Satine hugged her daughter, kissed the little girl's forehead, and handled her to the nanny droid, who was also one of their bodyguards.

"Be good Princess, I'll be along soon." The Empress whispered to her daughter, while the pink humanoid machine picked Fay, who looked disappointed and carried her away, signing quietly. "This better be important, Zash."

The Sith walked in as if she owned the place, then with a skill born from long experience, marched to the most comfortable free seat in the room and made herself comfortable.

"Knowing that you're a Mandalorian first, your Imperial Majesty," The Sith Lord spoke with the tiniest hint of mockery at the titles, "I felt compelled to inform you in person about the newest developments concerning your homeworld, especially their implications."

Zash's eyes sparkled in mischief – never a good thing in Satine's experience.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" The Empress groaned. "Give it to me straight."

"Well, on the bright side, it's not all bad!" Zash gleefully announced. "I see a lot of utility in these so-called "Parahumans", especially once we figure out the source of their power and make it work for us. This is especially true for their 'tinkers'. The one we have to play with is finally clean of all the drugs she has been drinking, sniffing and injecting, not to mention swallowing, and more or less in her right mind, which in turn allowed us to properly test her abilities and knowledge." The Sith floated a data-pad in front of Satine who picked it up and started dealing with its security systems.

"To summarize what you'll see, the asset, Code-named Trash-Collector," Zash continued, raising an eyebrow at the moniker chosen, "Don't look at me, Your Majesty, our people with any technical degree aren't amused by the concept of tinkers." Zash shrugged. "As I was saying, Trash-Collector has no technical knowledge about maintaining or modifying vehicles herself besides changing a very limited set of modules made user friendly by the locals on her home-world. On the other hand, when she has access to her power, Trash-Collector can significantly modify all kinds of vehicles in pseudo-tanks, APCs and IFVs with armor, weapons and particularly interesting devices that the locals are unable to build or replicate themselves."

"I guess there's no difference between her work and that of other tinkers? It shouldn't work and it doesn't away from the portal because critical components are missing, which are needed to make the advanced technology operate?" Satine inquired. That was the one unifying thing binding every piece of so-called tinker-tech they could get their hands on and test.

"Correct. As of last night, we have a fudged together railgun, which can't charge and with rails ready that can't survive more than five shots working beyond what it should be able to survive as long as it is close to the portal, a stealth field, which lacks the critical components to produce its effects and what is supposed to be a teleportation device, which isn't working either near the portal or away from it. Further interrogation suggests that as fat as Trash-Collector is concerned, the device should work, however naturally she can't explain how or why, for obvious reasons."

"Because she doesn't know, and her power is the source of both the knowledge on how to build these things and compensates for the lack of components." Satine nodded with a frown. "That by itself is concerning. Whoever is doing this has access to certain technologies we lack and is currently right beside my home."

"That's why I'm here." Zash pointed out. "Don't think just about the danger, think about what attaining these technologies could get us! We can get as many engineers and mechanics as we need, without spending years on training and even longer for those people to attain experience! I can turn the few people I find not insufferable into proper lab assistants!"

Which was probably the primary reason why Zash was so interested in tinkers…

"Teleportation, different methods of stealth, advancements in medical science, if that child's, Panacea's abilities are anything to go by…" Satine listed out the more notable technologies they hoped to gain from Earth Bet.

"Correct, Your Majesty! To continue our investigation on the Parahumans and their powers, we need more subjects to test, more tinkertech to examine, and most importantly, a way to trace the way to whatever of whoever is giving them their powers."

"You didn't come just to tell me this, a memo would have sufficed. What do you want, Zash?"

"At the moment, the leading theory is that whoever is doing it, acts from a different dimension. We'll need more resources to work on the Dimension Breach Generators on Mandalore, their effects, and most importantly, developing the proper instruments to study the portal, and detect others like it. In the same regard, it might be useful to study the one active portal on Earth Bet we know of, once we have the relevant sensors. The same goes for closely observing Parahumans using their powers both near the portal on our side and Earth Bet."

"You require a heavier involvement with Earth Bet and not just from the Freehold," Satine noted. "Doing so could provoke whoever is interfering over there."

"Perhaps. However, they didn't react on an Assault Ship conducting an orbital drop, then landing on the surface." Zash pointed out.

"That we know of. For all we're aware, they're mobilizing to either cut us off or strike directly at Mandalore, which is one of the reasons why Veil has a significant part of the navy concentrated either in the system or close by."

"With the celebrations so close by, security will be significantly raised anyway. Besides, the potential gains warrant a lot of risks."

"Risks? Sure. A war with an opponent of unknown capabilities and with technologies we currently lack? That's not something I'm looking forward to. Nor should you." Satine glared at the Sith.

"War is merely a means to an end and said end determines if the war was worth it. This problem is right on Mandalore's doorsteps, it's not something we can ignore and if our suspicions are true, merely shutting down the portal will not diminish the dangers, merely make us blind to the actions of our elusive foe."

"You don't subscribe to the theory that whoever provides powers to the Parahumans is benevolent?" Satine asked.

"Unless they're totally incompetent in their attempt to improve the situation on Earth Bet, incompetent enough that they're actively making it much worse? Whatever the goal is, it is not benevolent. Speaking about powers, we need more assets in place to investigate this Cauldron. While so far it's just one, we do have a recovered asset who believes he bought his power in a vial."

"Do you think they're an extension of the people who are responsible for Parahumans in the first place or lucked out on a tinker able to recreate the effects?" Satine wondered.

"Hopefully, its the later, in which case gaining the same sort of capability should be safer. On the other hand, discovering who we're dealing with on Earth Bet would have its benefits."

"I'll talk with Obi-Wan and Veil, then we'll decide on a unified strategy about Earth Bet as a whole. We'll need it in place if we're to increase the scope of our operations there."

* * *

**=MK= **

**Part 2**

**=MK=**

* * *

**15 January 2011**

**Brockton Bay**

Richard really should have known that everything would go to hell in both predictable and unpredictable fashion. Events up north in Canada were something no one really saw coming and were now biting everyone in the ass. That's why he was currently strapped into a Black Hawk flying above Brockton Bay, listening to it's familiar soothing droning and wondering how much of a cock-up tonight would be.

Marcinko wasn't alone at that – the helicopter was chock full with Seals – everyone who had participated in the cut short training with the new equipment, which they all wore anyway. The same was true for the other Black Hawks circling the city, they all carried makeshift squads build on two criteria – people who had worked together before and a local PRT or SWAT trooper to act as a guide, because the great majority of them weren't particularly familiar with Brockton Bay as one might expect.

Tonight was born of improvisation, caused by Washington panicking after the Mandalorians dropped an honest to God Star Destroyer on Dragon's compound after the Dragon Slayers somehow compromised and took it. After that everyone had nightmares to the same thing happening to American cities, well everyone in America anyway. Marcinco was sure that the same was happening in every more or less functioning place across the world. That of course was the reason for the current exercise – an operation which was still in the planning stages had to be launched and properly executed yesterday, because no one wanted to see that ship take a trip to Brockton Bay after some of the local villain element actually pissed off the Mandalorians. Richard was sure that there was more than a little element of politicians wanting to be seen as doing something, because over the past twelve hours there were two things true for almost all cities in the country; they were either gripped by protest demanding actions to ensure no alien invasion, calls to resist the obviously imminent alien invasion, or the more reasonable action – people racing out of the cities as fast as they could, often with no idea beyond getting out of the 'obvious' targets.

In that regard, Brockton Bay was no different. There were two ongoing protests – a march down the Boardwalk, which might be turning into a good old fashioned riot, and another, this time so far peaceful one in front of City Hall. The primary difference there might have been the presence of the local Wards and New Wave, along with the Mayor being out and trying to calm people down, while the underfunded and stretched thin BPD was making a mess of handling the other protest, or so the local news channel claimed. That a number of tablets showing local news were one of their best sources of intelligence right now was saying a lot about the unfolding cluster-fuck and most of it wasn't good.

Drones and news cameras showed the perimeter at the Docks, where Mandalorians openly patrolled their claimed slice of the city, all in armors much more advanced compared to what Marcinko and his people had available. Heavier weapons too, he obviously. The saving grace there was the lack of protests in the vicinity. The only civilians in the area were the news crews and Star Wars groupies risking everything to get a glimpse of the Mandalorians, who were held in check by a significant number of riot police, who might have been more useful at the Boardwalk.

The National Guard was deploying too, if slowly due to a steady exodus of people who saw the writing on the wall and raced to leave Brockton Bay before it could become a real battlefield. Needless to say, the local gangs were aware that the hammer would be coming down on them and they were by all accounts busy digging in, which would ensure that the unfolding operation would be a particularly ugly one when they got the go from the brass. Yes, this was a cock-up in the making, one straight for the history books and Richard was sure he'll be blamed for everything that went wrong.

In the end, he could live with that, as long as the aliens didn't feel compelled to secure the city themselves, because that would be a fuck up the likes of which the world hasn't seen yet and hopefully would be avoided in the future…

"Strike Elements, House Actual, we're a go. Ground elements departing HQ now. Good luck and God's speed." Director Piggot's voice cracked over the communication network.

"Here we go again…" Richard muttered. He picked up his helmet and put it on, carefully ensuring that it would seal just right. A soft click and a hiss, followed by HUD indicator lighting up green demonstrated he did it right.

Armor integrity, shield active and charging, encrypted squad and command network symbols, weapon targeting integration, showing that currently the blaster was properly unloaded and secured… not to mention environmental controls, something he wished he had back in 'Nam, complete with sealed armor to keep all kind of crawling and biting bastards away from using him as lunch. Arguably more useful, it was the IFF and status indicator for his makeshift squad. It might have been even better if he had had the time to train on the more intricate system of the command variant of the armor he wore, though perhaps not. Even if he knew better, the temptation to micromanage to potentially disastrous effects might have been too much otherwise.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Mandalorian Knights FOB**

**Brockton Bay**

Loud slurping noises distracted Aria from paying attention to multiple screens and holograms showing events across the continent, the base's perimeter and a stream of reports coming from Dragon's Compound and the nearby city, where the Vendetta's crew was busy both recovering everything of use and providing some disaster relief. The Sith glanced at her current legal adviser. Nalia was neatly curled on herself like an enormous snake, her huge eyes watched intently a live feed from the US Congress debating the Mandalorian's actions late in the night, all the while she held a huge bucket with ice-cream and rapidly devoured it.

At least someone was happy about the current mess, if the Hutt's expression was anything to go by. At any rate, if the locals didn't manage to retake control of the situation, they might not be a useful island of relative stability on the planet for much longer. It was obvious that the local politicians were scrambling to do something, both due to increasing pressure and the realities on the ground – practically all the cities were busy emptying in the middle of winter, without a good plan or enough infrastructure in place to handle the surge of people seeking the dubious safety of the countryside.

"What options are we looking at if the security situation deteriorates further?" Captain Terrin looked at Aria.

He wasn't asking as merely the highest ranked representative of the Mandalorian Knights on the ground, obviously.

"We hold our current position and if required call on the Vendetta for assistance. Broadly speaking, for the time being there are no official concrete plans for occupation and pacification if the local government loses control and the United States becomes a failed state, something our analysts claim is unlikely in the short term." Aria repeated the party line. As far as she knew, her Master would prefer that there was no need for further intervention at least until the celebrations were over, even if she suspected that there was a much larger quick reaction force awaiting on the other side of the portal just in case.

Someone snorted while watching a screen showing columns of ground vehicles trying to leave a large city by local standards. All they've managed for their efforts was apparently getting stuck in a traffic jam.

"It's the end days if you can believe the local news."

"At least no one is protesting outside our perimeter, though those groupies over there are as bad if not worse…" The Captain crossed his arms in front of his chest. "While I know Mandalore will do what he believes best, what exactly is our legal status if we have to intervene? The Mandalorian Knights I mean, not Freehold soldiers in general. We do have a dependent unaccounted for and the legal fiction notwithstanding, your protegees and you, ma'am are working directly for Mandalore."

"At this time there are no treaties binding any organization on Earth Bet and the Mandalorian Freehold as a whole. They aren't signatories of any recognized galactic treaties." Nalia explained. "Thus our status is legally gray. While our presence and actions might violate local laws and customs, reality being what it is when interactions between states are concerned, we are in the clean as long as we operate under lawful orders from Mandalore, the Freehold Government or follow guidelines Freehold Law recognizes when operating strictly in our capacity as Mandal Motors or Mandalorian Knights affiliates."

"Which means as long as we use reasonable amount of force to achieve our objectives and protect our people, we're going to be in the clean." Aria confirmed.

"According to the locals, what we're using is anything but normal." Terrin reasonably pointed out.

"We're not beholden to them, neither are we operating under their rules of engagement." Nalia said after devouring a large spoon-full of ice-cream. "That said, when practical, a certain amount of discretion is called for, that much should be obvious. If more heavy handed tactics are called for we should clear them with our respective superiors, legally speaking." The Hutt shrugged. "That said, I'm well aware that in the real world, that is not always practical to do in timely fashion. That's why you all have various guidelines and conditional rules of engagement. Like no calling orbital strikes unless really necessary."

"The locals are on the move. Their communication nets are lighting up." A technician reported.

"My people are already on high alert, shield is up and running as well, even though we have no indication that they'll be moving against us." Terrin confirmed he had things in hand.

"Contact Captain Fel and inform our navy friends that we would appreciate if the _Vendetta _is on standby to offer assistance if the situation here deteriorates." Aria ordered. "Contact Specialist Laborn and apprise him of the situation. It might be prudent that he goes to ground while local security forces are conducting operations in Brockton Bay. If not, he is to keep his communicator switched on, and needless to say, I want his status continuously monitored."

* * *

**=MK=**

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	42. Chapter 16 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****6**

**=MK= **

**Part ****3**

**=MK=**

* * *

_Operation "Ensuring Freedom" was many things. Unfortunately, a secret it was not. Even with the PRT in Brockton Bay warned about many of the back-doors in their systems and informants within the organization, there were enough compromised assets left after the initial sweeps to warn Empire 88 and the ABB what was about to befall them. The gangs received just enough warning to go to the ground and fortify their positions. As it turned out, the local Nazis, in particular, had been stockpiling weapons either for precisely this kind of eventuality or in case that their fabled race war might finally start._

_And the ABB? They had access to a new Tinker, who fortunately had only limited time and resources to work with, which was a good thing. They also had a serial suicide bomber and a ground melting, rage dragon ready to go on rampage too…_

_As dangerous as the Empire 88 was, no one doubted that their significantly less numerous Asian rivals posed a potentially much greater threat to the city as a whole. That's why, while regular police, Federal Agents, and multiple SWAT teams headed out to round up as many Empire un-powered members as they could, the PRT, Protectorate and Special Forces deployed to Brockton Bay initially concentrated their efforts on the ABB…_

* * *

**=MK=**

**15 January 2011  
Brockton Bay  
**  
As far as the ABB was concerned, it always came back to Lung, Brockton Bay's resident S-Class threat. He has been stabbed, shot, with everything from small arms to missiles, people had tried to assassinate him before he could ramp up and do his unique Endbringer impersonation. The last such attempt was a few years ago, when a sniper, allegedly hired by the Empire 88, shot him in the head, only for Lung to get up and rampage through the docks, before cooling down.

Velocity knew that Armsmaster had been working on a special tranquilizer brew in order to effectively neutralize their dragon problem. Unfortunately, said concoction was far from ready. Even more, unfortunately, it fell to Velocity to administer it, after Armsmaster added to it a cocktail of mundane tranquilizers, which would hopefully be enough to buy them time. When Director Piggot gave the go order, Velocity sprinted out of the PRT HQ loaded with foam grenades and two large, tinkertech injectors containing enough witches' brew to put down a herd of elephants. Behind him, armored vans and helicopters slowly left the building, giving him all the time in the world to scout ABB's territory. He easily confirmed that Lung was barricaded within one of his casinos, which ominously had it's basement sealed well enough that Velocity couldn't even begin a break-in attempt without alarming everyone. He noted that at least thirty members of the gangs were on-site and every single one of them was armed with an SMG or shotgun, they had pistols too but fortunately nothing heavier. There was no trace of explosives, which was good, neither a sign of Oni-Lee, which wasn't. Ideally, Velocity would deliver a tranquilizer injection to both of them as an opening move, thus hopefully avoiding a bombing spree. Unless Oni-Lee appeared in the next few minutes, he would be going to plan B, injecting both doses into Lung and hoping for the best.

Plan C called for drone strikes and if that failed, Triumvirate intervention, which would hopefully be avoided, because in that case, this section of the city would be a complete write-off and that was the best-case scenario. It wasn't like the PRT-ENE had the firepower to take out Lung by themselves, they already tried that when he first arrived and it was a miracle no Hero died in that battle when the overgrown lizard handed them their heads without breaking sweat…

Velocity had subjective hours to painstakingly examine the area and report his findings in excruciating detail for all the good it would do. Yet, he was no closer to finding a way into the basement, which was locked up tight and likely containing Oni-Lee. That's why, when the troopers approached and he could hear the irritatingly slow drone of the helicopters, Velocity pulled the pin of a foam grenade and threw it at the basement's door. He pulled out the injectors and left his breaker state so he could properly slam them in Lung's neck before the masked man knew he was there. To the bastard's credit, he sensed something as soon as the grenade left Velocity's field and looked its way, which fortunately served as a distraction. Still, it was a close-run thing. In the few moments it took the injectors to do their job, Lung surged forth and practically had Velocity dangling from his back while doing his best to push the devices deeper into the man's muscle. A wave of intense heat struck him even as he heard a pair of reassuring beeps and he jumped back, entering his breaker state just in time to barely avoid a backhand which would have been nasty – Lung's already had a metallic sheen on it.

Velocity paused for a moment in the middle of the large room, just for long enough to properly aim two grenades so they wouldn't miss the ramping up Lung, then made himself scarce while emptying the rest of his small arsenal, turning a significant part of the gaming parlor into rapidly hardening globs of containment foam.

A moment later, Velocity was outside, standing behind a column of vans that came to a sudden halt with a screech of brakes and burning rubber.

"Tranquilizers and con-foam deployed. Last I saw him, Lung was still ramping up. Half of the targets are foamed along with the entrance to the basement." Velocity reported, before making himself scarce just in case Oni-Lee decided to came out of his hidey-hole.

PRT troopers outfitted with the new alien armors left the vans in a run, followed by Assault and Battery, while Armsmaster and Miss Militia arrived on their motorbikes. Batons and armored fists shattered windows before the troopers threw in flash-bangs and a few precious concussion grenades – the Mandalorian equivalent apparently. Loud cracks echoed throughout the building and Assault powered by Battery breached the doors shooting inside like a human-sized wrecking ball. Two squads of troopers went in behind him, followed by Armsmaster and Miss Militia, armed with a Halberd and a blaster rifle respectively.

The blasters themselves were a massive game-changer as far as the PRT was concerned – every single one of them had a stun setting and hasty tests proved that multiple shots were more or less harmless, merely increasing the length someone hit more than once would be knocked out and making them feel even worse when recovering. In this particular case, this meant that the troopers could afford to go in guns blazing without a care in the world, which ensured that only one of the gangsters managed to get a shot out, which was harmlessly deflected by the armor.

Unfortunately, that was the point when the plan went straight to hell. The first clue was that the largest lump of containing foam was smoking and melting. The second was a part of the floor vanishing into a swirl of darkness, followed by a loud crack of displaced air as it was sucked into the brief vacuum left behind by an exotic tinkertech explosion...

"Rage dragon it is…" Velocity muttered to himself while widely looking around for any trace of Oni-Lee.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 4**

**=MK=**

* * *

**15 January 2011  
Brockton Bay**

Brockton Bay as a special slice of hell, that was something every cop in the city knew for a fact… at least those who made it past their first six months without running afoul of one of the gangs which in practice ran most of the place like their own fiefdoms. If you were white, you were relatively lucky and safe-ish, if you had the good fortune to live away from ABB or Merchant territory, though the latter were thankfully no longer a consideration. If you were Asian or could pass for one anyway, then you had to contribute to Lung's goons. Being a cop, like Mike Shu was, well that incidental fact was no protection whatsoever for him or his family. Oni-Lee appearing in Shu's bedroom, while his pregnant wife thankfully slept, was proof enough of that, combined with the knowledge that the PRT and Protectorate offered only platitudes when the next unfortunate cop or their family ran afoul of a villain in this accursed city – a depressingly regular occurrence.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Brockton Bay was the Nazi capital of America, which meant that the goose-stepping bastards had high approval and backing on average, in no small part because they did a better job protecting parts of the city than either the police or PRT, which was a sad state of affairs indeed. As a direct consequence, those bastards had many supporters in both the police and City Hall, some more eager and open than others.

If Mike could have afforded to move along with his family, he would have gleefully done it a long time ago. With job prospects being what they were, and the fact that anyone in the BPD was unofficially tarnished as far as most LEOs outside of the city were concerned, he was stuck, hoping to avoid being blown up or turned into chunky salsa. This left him with precious little choice. Besides, it wasn't like the last time the PRT went after Lung they did anything but get a part of the city melted. When the word came from above about the impending operation, Mike ensured that he could get out of sight as soon as possible and make a call to his contact in the ABB. He was sure that at least five other cops in his station alone did the same, warning both the Nazi's and Lung. With the dubious safety of his family ensured, Mike went back to be briefed, at which point he began to regret not taking his chances a few years later and trying to leave Brockton Bay, consequences are damned.

Mike sat on a hard-backed, and particularly uncomfortable plastic chair, listening to Sergeant Green's briefing. While the bastard's face was impassive and properly serious, Shu was sure that the racist prick was gleeful. It was him and his Nazi worshiping buddies who came up with the plan, it had to be.

Ironically, Green was using what everyone who paid attention knew as justification, the audacious bastard. That by itself was worthy of respect, almost but not quite.

"Due to suspected wide-spread sympathies to certain gangs and their creed within the Brockton Bay police force, we were forced to think long and hard about the deployment of our units." Green was saying.

Long story short, Mike thought fuming and barely paying attention, threw the bulk of the not snow-white cops at the Nazis so Hookwolf and company could smear them all over the streets, while the racist pricks would stay back in relative safety watching the PRT and Protectorate get fried by Lung, then run before the dragon could cook them as well. It was an evil and cunning plan, and Shu was sure it wasn't merely Green's doing. Then again, he was far from the only racist bastard on the staff.

Even worse, at least on paper, the plan made sense – every few months there was an outcry when cops left Empire gangers to go with only a warning or got caught on camera socializing with the lowlifes. Those cops were always white, obviously so using primary minority cops and this was important, Shu was sure everyone who wasn't for sure bought and paid for to get rid of them against the Nazi made sense. It could be sold to the Feds and City Hall as the police doing it's best in fucked up situations, at least as no one looked close and hard enough. The bastards were likely going to get away with it too because, in Mike's experience, no one wanted to look hard at Brockton Bay and its trouble.

A few minutes later, they were all at the parking lot, getting into their patrol cars. The precinct's small SWAT unit was with them, boarding their up-armored van for all the good it would do – what use was small arms against many of the Empire's capes? The giant twins wouldn't notice it, Hookwolf was known to tank sustained machine-gun fire and worse when tangling with Squealer's vehicles, then there was Alabaster… it was a long fucking list.

"We're fucked buddy." Mike finally trusted himself to speak when he and his partner were in the dubious safety of their car.

White Horse, the only Native-American man working at the station, snorted. Notably, he wasn't white and loathed the very mention of horses for some reason he wasn't willing to divulge. This meant that various bastards kept slapping pictures of horses, in one case a bunch of horsehair who knew how they got their hands on too, all over his locker.

"Like Custer's last stand on the reverse." White Horse joked.

* * *

**=MK=**

"You had to fucking say it!" Mike shouted at his partner, while both of them knelt beside the engine block of their very much shot up patrol car.

The raid of a known Empire safe-house went straight to hell as soon as the first police car approached. A lookout ran inside, five cars and the SWAT van came to a halt near the entrance with the screech of brakes while three more units did the same on the other side of the building. However, before anyone could exit their vehicle, the Nazis opened fire from inside with automatic weapons. The Empire goons shot up Brooker's car and as far as Mike could see, neither the young black cop nor his partner managed to get out before the Nazis riddled the front of the vehicle with bullets.

For once, the SWAT try-hards proved their dubious worth, throwing smoke and flash-bangs. One of them grabbed a metal shield and made his way to the shot cops, while the rest opened up on the safe house as if bullets were going out of fashion. All Mike and White House could really do was take a pot-shot, when no one was shooting at their car, and hope they didn't get shredded too.

"There are no Empire capes here, so it could be worse?" White House just had to open his mouth again.

"Really, man? Really?!" Mike exclaimed, then ducked when multiple bullets pinged off the engine.

"We aren't the only ones raiding them!" White House pointed out.

"You don't taunt Murphy! You never taunt Murphy in this fucked-up excuse for a city!" Mike snapped.

Predictably, at that point, the door of the safe-house exploded outwards in a shower of wood, powdered bricks, and metal silvers, revealing the murder-blender that was Hookwolf.

"Cape!"

"Shoot him! Shoot him now!" The SWAT Captain shouted, while everyone either redirected their fire or in a few cases, tried to run, only to be shot in the back by the Nazis in the safe-house.

The whole SWAT unit opened up at Hookwolf for all they were worth, which did little to slow him down.

Mike didn't think. He aimed at the whirlwind of metal and emptied the magazine in its general direction. He didn't know if he hit it even once, but even if every bullet went home, it had no visible effect. His trembling hands went for another magazine, his last, while Hookwolf went through the back of Brooker's car, slicing through it as if it wasn't even there and headed straight at the shield-toting SWAT member, who kept shooting at him with his pistol to no effect. A moment later, all Mike could see were flashes of light and flying red things, which his mind didn't want to process as pieces of a man being shredded in front of his eyes. He didn't saw a shadow passing overhead, neither did his eyes properly register the angry red bolts raining at the whirlwind of steel still heading for the rest of the SWAT troopers, who broke in the face of the advancing villain.

It was sometime later, that White Horse's shaking and a couple of heavy-handed slaps got him out of his funk and Mike's mind began working more or less properly again. He could see multiple armored forms, just like the aliens, running around and shooting at Hookwolf, while he chased them down, leaving behind more and more half-melted and broken blades...


	43. Chapter 16 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****6**

**=MK=**

**P****art ****5**

**=MK=**

* * *

**15 January 2011**

**Protectorate HQ  
Brockton Bay**

This was what Emily Piggot had been trying to avoid ever since her first day as Director. Brockton Bay was right now a battle-zone and it was going to get much worse before it got better.

If it got better.

Two dozen large monitors showed live feeds from all over the city. In the heart of ABB territory, a building exploded in flames. Emily could see Armsmaster's form fly out and bounce off the wet street outside. PRT and Special Forces troopers opened up with everything they had on a monstrous, fiery shape which moved within the ruins.

Not too far away, Brockton PD and more PRT troopers did their best to apprehend regular ABB gangsters, leading to multiple firefights. The Director didn't require the verbal confirmation to figure out what was happening. The gangs were prepared for a siege, and as often as not, they outgunned those sent after them. The same was true in the Empire 88 part of the city. Over there, more than one raid turned into a siege upon hardened safe-houses, and that was before the capes got involved.

A birds-eye view from a helicopter showed a ravaged street, shot up and then scourged by Hookwolf's blades. Blood blossomed on the light snow where pieces of men fell after the villain shredded them asunder. BPD officers crawled away, trying to retreat while under fire from the nearby Empire safe-house, while a SWAT unit executed a firing retreat. The sole thing keeping Hookwolf at bay was a squad of Special Forces wearing alien armor and wielding alien weapons. They slowed down the villain by blasting off chunks of his blades.

Not too far from that engagement, multiple BPD units ran in the face of Kreig and Alabaster, their weapons ineffective against the villains. A PRT drone showed a Black Hawk descended behind the Empire capes. Troopers in gray alien armor rappelled down and opened fire with energy weapons without losing a beat.

Alabaster fell to the ground with his chest blasted away by blue energy pulses, while Kreig turned around and ran at the troopers. Energy bolts reflected from him or spun away just before touching his form, yet the villain's defenses did little for the thermal energy of the near misses. Emily watched Kreig's winter clothes catch fire shortly before he could reach the slowly retreating soldiers. At that point, Alabaster got to his feet only to be shot apart again. Kreig's charge halted as he began tearing his clothes off, all the while the soldiers kept shooting at him. Two of them changed targets and repeatedly shot at Alabaster, charring or even tearing off large parts of the villain. He reset two more times, before multiple energy bolts struck him in the chest just as he reformed. He stumbled a step back, before the soldiers cut him down, shearing off most of his torso off. Piggot saw everything below Alabaster's shoulders turn into mist before the collapsed.

The villain didn't reform again.

Kreig surged to his feet, most of his clothes gone, along with large strips of skin, revealing oozing, smoking wounds. He screamed at the steel gray sky and rushed the soldiers on unsteady legs. They merely kept falling back and pumping shot after shot at him. While not a single energy bolt touched the cape, near misses turned out to be good enough.

Emily grimaced as he watched the Empire cape slowly cook and eventually collapse during his suicidal charge.

Regrettably, in far too many cases, the PRT and their supporting forces weren't so fortunate.

"Alexandria and Legend are in position and engaging Lung." One of the tactical coordinators announced.

The Director directed her gaze to the relevant monitors just in time to see a dark blur fall from the heavens and strike Lung in the spine. Lung… he no longer resembled a man. Instead, there was a twisted parody of a dragon with slowly growing dual-joined wings, who spewed fire all over the district. His very presence was enough to melt the streets and occasionally set nearby buildings on fire. Alexandria's strike created a shock-wave, which picked up some of Lung's fires and pulsed outwards like a firebomb, bathing everything nearby in fire.

A streak of light followed and Legend was there, blasting Lung with lasers that did their bests to freeze the ramped up villain. At least that was in hand now, even if it meant a whole section of the city would be a write off now. Perhaps the aliens might want to buy it at discount?

Emily jerked her head back at that thought. She felt helpless now. All her assets were deployed and engaged, for all the good it did. At least the Wards were near the outskirts of the city, overseeing the evacuation efforts and safely out of the way.

The Director looked at the two monitors not showing the unfolding disaster in her city. Perhaps, this was something she should have done a lot earlier, before the aliens arrived. Then again, she harboured the nagging suspicion that before their arrival, at best she would have been replaced and nothing productive would have happened. It didn't matter now.

To begin with, Emily turned to the monitor displaying the tense form of the Governor.

"Governor Franks," Piggot began, "as the Director of the Protectorate East-North-East branch, I must dully report that the available Protectorate, PRT and local law enforcement forces can no longer contain the villain population of Brockton Bay. I'm requesting any and all aid the state government could provide."

Mitchel Franks, Maine's Governor, brought a trembling hand through his reedy white hair and nodded glumly. He looked like a man who just bit into a rotting lemon.

"You'll have it, director." Franks looked away from the camera. "General Philips, I'm authorizing the National Guard to enter Brockton Bay's proper. You're to offer all necessary aid to local law enforcement in restoring law and order within the city." The Government turned to look back at the camera. "Mr. President, I'm requesting federal support in resolving the situation in Brockton Bay."

"Granted. General Grissom?"

"We can have Air Force assets on station in five minutes. The leading elements of the 101st Airborne Division can reach Brockton Bay within thirty minutes. Airborne elements from Fifth Infantry Division are one hour away, with the heavy elements roughly five hours away from the word go. Do I have authorization to deploy them?"

"You have, General."

In the end, it as simple really. Just a few words, a single request really, and the whole world changed, again, even if it didn't know it yet. There was no doubt that between the Triumvirate and approaching reinforcements, they would secure the city soon. What was left from it anyway. However, what would happen next was anyone's guess.

A quiet commotion broke from the screen showing the White House's part of the conference call.

"Mr. President, a number of Mandalorian assets just lifted off from Canada and are heading our way.

"We're receiving a general call from the alien Captain."

"This is Captain Fel hailing the United States government. Be advised, in light of recent events in Brockton Bay, I'm dispatching a security force to ensure the safety of Mandalorian citizens and Mandal Motors personnel stationed in the vicinity of ongoing hostilities."

Well, things could obviously become much more complicated even if the Sith remained quietly behind their perimeter at the docks, Emily concluded. She only hoped no one would be suicidal enough to attack the aliens.

She didn't miss the stir and impotent anger coming from various people linked by the conference call. What the Mandalorians were doing right now could be considered an act of war. Yet, that was something no one sane in the US government wanted to even contemplate, much less risk sparking.

It was a show of power, really, not much different than the posturing between the various gangs. It was just that, the Mandalorians had the biggest stick and were ready to apply it liberally if they deemed it necessary.

* * *

**=MK=**

**Part 6**

**=MK=**

* * *

**15 January 2011**

**Brockton Bay**

The plan went to hell almost as soon as it began, which was to Richard Marcinco's utter lack of surprise. There were too many working parts, too many people from different agencies involved, not enough time to ensure proper coordination. As if that wasn't bad enough, operational security was all but guaranteed to be shot down, and it was. Otherwise, the regular cops and SWAT wouldn't be running straight into either prepared ambushes or fortified sites with people armed to the teeth waiting for them.

The helicopter shook, buffered by a shock-wave from the battle they were busy fleeing from. Marcinco tosséd back his head biting off a litany of curses. This was the greatest fuck-up he had been part of since forever. If he was any judge of particularly nasty fuck-ups, this particular one was just beginning.

"This is all messed up!" One of the armored troopers mumbled quietly.

The sole reason Marcinco heard him was the comm units built in their helmets. While he agreed with the sentiment, this wasn't the time or place for it. He knew from unpleasant experience, that letting your anger influence you, was particularly terrible idea when facing parahumans.

"Lock down that shit, soldier, we've got a job to do." Marcinco's voice cracked over the squad network. "Keep your head straight and focus on the task at hand." He added in a bit softer tone.

Intense flashes of light illuminated the Black Hawk, swiftly followed by another shock-wave and a thunderclap racing on its heels. White streaks slashed their way through the overcast gray sky, undoubtedly targeting the rampaging dragon. Good, Marcinco thought. This wasn't job for the bloody infantry. His next target, however…

He could hear distant explosions even over the thump of the rotor's blades. Another resounding crash followed, complete with a shock-wave lightly rattling the helicopter. Fucking dragon.

Marcinco cursed the villain, silently this time, and drove him out of his mind. He had another target to deal with now. They were on the way to a firefight, where one of the local nazi wannables was busy engaging local police, SWAT and an SF team. The bastard was still active too, which meant he was a tough one.

Hookwolf, Richard recalled from the endless briefings on the local villain population in desperate need of trimming. Mid-range Brute, spinning blades, murderous bastard in need of shooting. Engage from long range and with Protectorate support only. The Protectorate was busy, so it was up to the poor bloody infantry. Marcinco cracked a brief smile under his helmet while the chopper descended on a final approach to the combat zone. For a change, the poor bloody infantry received some new toys to play with.

His smile vanished when he got a closer look at the feed from the other Black Hawk in the area. Bloody snow, a street blasted to hell and back, an active firefight. This brought back memories, and most of them weren't particularly good.

"My fire-team is engaging that moving blender. The rest of you engage the strong-point and cover the cops." Marcinco ordered.

The helicopter lurched and hovered at the far end of the street, a few hundred feet from the spinning, melting blades of the villain.

"Out, on the double!" Marcinco snapped and followed his own order, flinging a rappelling rope out. He wasted no time in getting to the ground and shouldering his alien ray-gun.

His squad fanned out behind him, took aim, and they opened fire. Blue pulses of energy flew at the targets, tearing chunks of concrete or blasting off spinning blades as fast as they could form. Marcinco wasted no time and jogged towards the closest cover, shooting all the way. Between the relatively light recoil and the targeting assist on the HUD, he had no trouble hitting his spinning target. If anything, this felt all too easy and sterile. The sound of the battle was subdued due to the sound filters in his helmet and the only thing he could smell was clean filtrated air. No smoke, no cordite, not even his own sweat.

This was a strange experience, even if fighting with a gas-mask should have been similar, not to mention something he had to do many times in the past. It wasn't, and the brief training didn't properly prepare him for this. It was almost like a lucid dream instead of a real firefight.

Fortunately, Marcinco, and from what he could see, the other troopers, had enough experience to push through the odd feeling of fighting in the new armors without letting it slow them down.

Within moments, he found himself crouching behind the engine of a shot-up police cruiser, which offered some useful cover from the building across the street. A brief glance ensured him that the second fire-team had the safe-house supressed, which allowed him to focus his whole attention on the rampaging villain. Even with three fire-teams engaging him with energy weapons, Hookwolf merely slowed down. The villain's blades now popped up into existence just in time to get blown up. Soon, the spinning vortex of death and mutilation became still, unable to advance under the onslaught. Yet, despite a puddle of molten metal forming below him, he showed no sign of actually going down.

Marcinco ceased firing and his right arm went to his harness on its own volition, looking for the pouch containing a few precious alien grenades. He picked up one of the spheres and quickly glanced at it, his HUD identifying it immediately.

A CryoBan grenade. Richard wasted a few precious moments fiddling with the unfamiliar safeties of the weapon before his HUD outlined it in blinking red light, informing him that it was live.

"Grenade!" Marcinco shouted and threw the sphere true.

Hookwolf had used the past few seconds to take a handful of slow steps forward, each one spilling sizzling molten metal on the wet ground. The grenade flew true and landed right in front of the villain, who was about to step on it when it detonated.

A steam explosion engulfed Hookwoolf, followed by the distinct sound of shattering metal and a howl of pain. This didn't stop the troopers who kept shooting at him. Their visors took only a heart-beat to cut through the steam and outline the broken form of the villain, offering them a juicy target.

A few seconds later, Hookwolf's figure collapsed upon itself, torn to pieces by the blasters.

"Cease fire!" Marcinco barked as soon as he saw energy pulses fly through the fast dissipating steam without hitting anything, because there was precious little left to shoot at. "Corporal, check on the target, we'll cover you. One-Two, keep suppressing the strong-point."

All they found from Hookwolf was a small, cracked and dented sphere leaking blood. A burst of blaster fire vaporized most of it.

"Now he's down for good." One of the troopers grunted.

"Sergeant, detach a fire-team to secure the wounded." Marcinco ordered the CO of the second SF squad. "The rest of us are taking that house!"

* * *

**=MK=**

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